


The Coils of Desire

by Lyssandra_Med



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bellamione Cult War, Blood Magic, Creature Fic, Creature Hermione Granger, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, Ritual Magic, Snekmione, Team Furbae, We're Going to Crazy Town With This One
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2020-12-13 18:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: There was Darkness-There was Pressure-And then, mercifully, it was all over.---Or; Bellatrix Finds a Pet





	1. When Things Go Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DelphiBlack_Granger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphiBlack_Granger/gifts).

> A random idea that was lovingly expanded by the Bellamione Discord, I blame (and love) you all for this.

The middle of a clearly pitched battle was absolutely the wrong place to end up lost and on her own and yet here she was. 

When the battle had initially started there had been somewhat of an order to the madness, some modicum of structure still yet remaining. Battle lines had been formed and drawn up by the directions from which the combatants approached the killing field. Beneath the veil of the forest and the hills came Voldemort’s inconceivable horde, and from the sheltering stone of Hogwarts came those who’d chosen to remain. They were ragtag, to put it lightly, a stalwart group of six and seventh years mingling in between their remaining Professors and the few Order members left standing. 

There had been an overt amount of chaos, yes, but it was all seemingly restrained by how early and how quickly the fighting began. _ Battle _ had yet to turn to true _ warfare, _ and thus they were not immediately routed. Trolls had lumbered across the open fields to assail the stonework directly and those positioned to defend it. Snatchers, generally all thought of as common criminals and cannon fodder, had arranged themselves into a semblance of battle formations; divisions rising up beneath particularly organized and efficient leaders. To stand against them were only the few remaining defenders of the Castle; students following teachers following the Order as best they could until all (or most) battlements had been manned and entrances barricaded.

Soon enough though, like all things seemed to do in the end, it all fell apart.

Harry managed to disappear within the first few minutes of open warfare and though she looked and scanned across the fields and bastions, she could not find him anywhere in sight. Whether that meant that he was off looking for the last Horcrux (like she hoped) or had been downed by spellfire (which she dreaded) she could not say, too focused on surviving her own perils and saving others as she was. Ronald had been the next to escape from her radar; the boy had dashed off with an assortment of older students to shore up and reinforce their flagging left flank, pounded and assaulted by Trolls until all that could be heard from that direction were screams of pain and sorrow.

And now here _ she _ was, hugging tightly to the Castle wall with Luna hot on her heels and three devils following their every step. It was her worst nightmare (or close enough), three members of the Inner Circle (all Death Eater’s through and through); Barty Crouch Jr., Antonin Dolohov, and Rookwood pulling up behind their rear with a nearly endless stream of harassing curses and strangely tuned hexes flying at them with reckless abandon. _ Why _ they had singled out them both amid the fray was a question that Hermione couldn’t answer, and in the end it mattered less than coming up with methods and ways of evasion that would allow her to even get to that point.

Left; ducking down to pass beneath a cutting hex designed with only one purpose in mind.

Right; halting her momentum with a spell because the speed she had been traveling would have sent an Avada straight into her heart.

Backwards; attempting to backpedal when Rookwood charmed a section of wall to turn into a groping quicksand that lept at them with hands tipped dark with onyx talons.

Forwards; speeding back off after freezing the now sentient abomination, her feet losing a shoe with the speed she moved at.

Luna was a constant presence at her side and a competent duelist in her own right (not that she had ever exactly been terrible before), and though Hermione was sure she might not have died there, she knew she would have been far worse off if the young witch hadn’t remained at her side. It seemed that Luna was quickly becoming the only thing keeping Dolohov and Rookwood at bay; caught up as she was with Crouch there didn’t seem to be a single second that she could devote towards the other two Death Eaters, and had she tried she was sure she would have been cut down in an instant.

Distance, time, and the ferocity of the attack all served to eventually separate her from Luna. The blonde was sprinting away with the two terrors on her heels, and Crouch had seemingly decided she was his prize to target. Now she was alone with the mad caricature of Bartemius Crouch staring at her across a few meters of soil with something in his eyes that looked less like madness and more like a deranged happiness, a glint that struck Hermione with full body shivers and a cold sweat that dripped down her spine.

The man was almost impossibly fast (Hermione would give him that at the least), and though he seemed to pick and choose his attacks he never once seemed to be even close to running out of maniacal energy. There were gorgeous purple flashes that veered off to the side as she just barely managed to escape them, green sparks of lightning and fire that shot out to pass just above her head as she dropped into a low skid that left her knees scraped and bleeding. A wall standing before them (but gaining quickly with the speed of her travel) was bashed away into smithereens until a hole had been opened up for her to pass through, the ground dug out to the point where she needed to jump the last bit of distance or accept her fate as dead meat.

As she did so, her body flying and wind beneath her feet as she practically soared through the air, a gray-brown lump of a spell passed right behind her back to singe and eliminate the last portion of her tied up hair; a fluttering feeling against her neck as the breeze touched it freely and the conspicuous loss of weight told her all she needed to know about how close she had just come to death, and Crouch’s scream of rage pounded that conclusion into her brain.

“Ha ha,” the madman cackled as she skidded to a stop against a far wall inside the little alcove that he had opened up, “All mine, all mine!”

Hermione’s heart sank with the realization that he was right; somewhere between all the running and the evasion she had let herself be harangued into taking shelter in a blown out room, no exit except the one directly at Crouch’s back. Luna was still missing (and luckily the other Death Eater’s as well), and she would only have herself to either win this, or die. 

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

_ ‘Perfect.’ _

“_Bombarda Maxima!_” Hermione’s roar was fierce as it left her chest, the effort producing a magnificent bolt of red lightning that shot forward from her wand to trail a blaze of light right towards Crouch-

_ ‘No,’ _ she fumbled open-mouthed as the man stepped out of the way with a preternatural lack of effort, his face contorted into a grin that shot fear into her stomach.

Behind him the ground and wall that she had passed through gave way with the enormity of her spell; splashes of brown dirt and sharp stone rained down on them both as her only method of escape was rendered moot. Yes she could attempt to blast another wall apart and escape that way, but could she do it in time? Hermione’s thought were analytical and frigid as she came to the realization that no; she could not. Even if she moved as fast as she could there would be no room to maneuver in this small of a space, and even with the sun streaming in from the broken roof above them there wasn’t enough light to ensure she hit the correct wall. She would be ruined even more if she blasted one apart only to step into an even smaller cage.

“Now then,” Crouch wandered closer to her with a crackling blue shield pulled over himself from head to toe, “How shall Barty do this, hmm? What to do, what to do…”

There was a pause where Hermione and Crouch both looked at each other with expectations behind their eyes; whether he was waiting for her to strike or make an escape she couldn’t tell, but the opening was gone almost as soon as it presented itself. Hermione, shaking with a fear she had never felt before (except beneath the heated touch and strike of _ Her _) filling her body, was lost.

He struck at her, and that was all it took.

One second his shield was still up, the next it was dropping away, and in the following movement his wand arm came up to swish a pattern that Hermione couldn’t recognize until a bright flash of purple light left its tip. Hermione’s reaction time and speed might have been higher than another student of her age and status, but there was never a chance in the world that she would be faster than a trained killer, faster than a murderer bent on doing her harm.

The purple spell smashed its way through the air with a stinging sound of someone screaming until it finally connected with her chest; in the briefest of moments she was shot up off her feet to fly backwards above the ground, her blood boiling and throat hitching shut as everything about herself seemed to constrict and dissolve.

There was Darkness-

There was Pressure-

There was a sense of Growth, a sense of Loss-

And then, mercifully, it was all over.

\---

When her eyes opened next (or she was sure it must have been her eyes, even if it didn’t exactly _ feel _ right), there was no Crouch standing above her. There was no one actually, and a sudden disorientation in her skull seemed to make it all the harder to understand. 

_ ‘What happened to the Battle?’ _

She was laying flat across the stone work of another room that she seemed to have been moved into after being hit by Crouch’s spell, its walls high and the sun even higher above her from what little she could make out. The stone was cool beneath her belly, body pinched tight in what she assumed was the result of a _ Petrificus _, mouth clamped shut and eyes unmoving as she lay there in confusion.

She wanted to call out for help or anyone at all, and while she could feel herself unable to move she could somewhat tell she could do at least that. 

So she tried, courage and will screwed up in equal measure.

And hissed, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


	2. The Underbrush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i'll correct editing/grammar later, sorry!)

Hermione listened with ears that couldn’t quite hear as the noise continued on and on.

Hissing.

Vapid, constant, sounding so much like some filtered noise that reminded her intensely of Voldemort’s familiar, the same thrice damned noise that those snakes back in her second year had made. The same whispering syllables that Harry uttered during his sleeping hours (at least according to Ronald, so it may or may not have actually been truth), but regardless of whether or not _ that _ was true, ** _she_ ** was the one making the noise right now.

_ She was bloody _ ** _hissing!_ **

A wave of agitation and anger washed over her body in roiling tremors that coincided with an unintended thrashing of her stiffened body, her efforts to stretch out or kick and scream brought to naught when her arms and legs refused to pull away or even make themselves known. She could feel _ something _ that reminded her of what her arms were supposed to be (somewhere much, much higher up on her body than they should have ever been), almost as if they had been glued down _ inside _ herself to the point where she was unable to move or pull them apart. Her legs were bound up in much the same manner, the weirdly odd feeling of some form of remnant hiding out within her body, but so far deep down that there was no hope of actually being able to use the limbs to propel or raise herself.

In the end all she managed to receive in return for all the effort was a sudden loss of energy and the sensation of sideways movement that blended off into somewhat of a forward crawl. Her entire core felt stretched into one long limb that moved and pulled in undulating pressures, a change of direction shifted towards the length of her body instead of her hips. The sensation was eerily likened to pulling without the effort of having _ actually _ pulled. 

These meager factors were enough for her to run her mind into a fire-pit of disaster, her knowledge blasting her painfully ahead of acceptance.

She was one long, tightly muscled body; quick to tire and colder than she had been within the confines of these walls who knew how long ago.

She had no limbs whatsoever; but had still managed to shift and propel herself forward against the uneven and cracked terrain.

She was hissing; a factor that on its own was really a damn near freebie.

Through some manner of ill-conceived magic, she had been Transfigured into a snake.

And Barty Crouch Jr. had been the one to do this to her.

Hermione stewed as she digested this information, her body unconsciously coiling in on itself while her eyes remained glued open to the surrounding world. That last spell he had shot off at her (and that she had failed to dodge,) must have been some manufactured variant on a dark curse or some brand new spell that he had crafted all on his own. Hermione’s tongue flickered out in annoyance while she pondered all that, all the effort she had put to dodging his spellwork ruined at the last moment. She _ knew _ there were no purple-coded Human to Snake Transfigurations, or at least none that wouldn’t steal her mind along with body, and she had certainly made her best efforts in memorizing all the standard codes for dark curses and hexes. No, there was no denying that this was some form of curse, and no denying that he had likely come up with this all on his own.

_ ‘Which,’ _ her tongue once again lashed outwards in a further agitated flicker, _ ‘Unfortunately means I’ll need someone _ ** _else_ ** _ to break the curse.’ _

The empty room stared back at her in some form of cosmic amusement. She would be stuck like this, alone, lost, for at least a good while longer.

_ ‘Dammit!’ _

Hermione uncoiled from the wrap and back into a twisting _ ‘S’, _ her heart rate spiking as she fought herself for control over the myriad range of emotions all sprinting through her head. One breath in, _ ‘Oh Gods this is weird,’ _ one breath out, her long tongue flickering along with every exhale to distort her vision and bring her scents in tastes that her mind fought to understand.

Obviously Crouch had left her alone after he knew the spell connected (as her being alive was proof enough of that), either because he had grown bored with having bested the Brightest Witch of the Age, or because something (or someone), had called or come upon him. Or perhaps he had simply not even stopped to observe, just seen the spell connect before trotting off to wreak mayhem and havoc elsewhere. After all, if he knew what he had cast then he knew how little threat she would pose to anyone in this state.

Which, quite unfortunately, led her off from one anxiety riddled line of thought and on to another just as jittery and panic inducing.

What if the battle that had been raging outside these walls was still ongoing? _ What if it was all over? _

Could she even risk absconding from the relative safety of this quiet space? Should she?

Her body wound around itself again as she sat there and worked through the few possible outcomes, taking more than a few minutes to work through each of them (in the interest of planning of course, not because she was slowly hyperventilating due to thoughts of her friends dying, and she suddenly finding herself as _ a fucking snake! _) The first of her many options was that her side had handily won the war against Voldemort (by far her most preferred of all), and with any luck someone would find her swiftly. And again with any luck, it would be Harry or McGonagall that happened upon her hideaway.

If it were Harry that stumbled upon her she could use his affinity with snakes to actually speak to him, a chance to explain just who (and what) she was before he could make any hasty decisions about small hissing creatures hiding away from the light. If it were McGonagall she could only hope that her awkward movements and constant vocalizations would alert the Professor to the fact that she was not what she appeared to be. She could easily impress upon the older woman that she had an above average intelligence for what was expected from a snake, and hopefully win her over right then and there to correct this dreadful curse. On the other hand, if whoever found her _ wasn’t _ either one of those, well, she would need to prove herself beyond all manner of reproach.

A prospect she was most definitely not looking forward to.

The other option that remained was that she remain hidden here in safety while outside these walls her side lost. Now _ that _ particular option was one she desperately hoped they were avoiding. If it turned out to be the case though… Well, she would likely be stuck like this, in some twisted up form that she would need to live out the rest of her life in, or at least survive as a lowly snake until the magic wore off on its own. And who knew how long that could take, a year, two, hell it could take a half millennium for some of the strongest curses to dissipate; she could legitimately live out the rest of her life waiting for a change that might never occur.

She hissed and shivered beneath her coils as the thought ran lances of fear and worry down her long spine, mouth opened and teeth gleaming beneath the few rays of light that penetrated her hideaway. Best not to think about that option, better for her heart and mind at least.

Or, (and this would be taking one hell of a giant risk, but she was a Lion at heart dammit, not a bloody snake), she could leave the safety of this space and venture on to the outside. 

In a twisted body that she had never used before, and as a creature so maligned that most of her friends would probably kill or banish her on sight rather than let slither around for one second more than the length of time it took their gaze to fall upon her. That last bit, being banished without a second thought, was especially likely after all the mayhem that the _ other _ snake that she knew to be on campus grounds had wrought. Somewhere out there that snake was fighting against her friends (unless the deed was done and she was dead, or triumphant), and Hermione knew she would be placed into the same category if only for simplicity's sake.

She could manage it though, she knew that she could, snake or no snake she was still Hermione Granger the Brightest Witch, still one whole third of the Golden Trio. At no point in her life had courage been her strong suit (as plans and books and knowledge at her fingertips were more her style and speed), but if she got lucky and plucked at every thread of Gryffindor within her heart, she could make it work. And all the Gods above, she would need that luck.

If she was venomous she could protect herself at the very least, she could risk it and try to take on any enemies that got in her way. Not that she really _ wanted _ that to happen, but if it did… Well, she had a short list of people that she would be willing to try herself against, if it was needed-

** _“-bite them and wait and feed then shelter, drag feed to shelter and warm-”_ **

_ ‘What,’ _ Hermione felt herself recoil further into a tighter ball of muscle and scale that scraped against itself in her search for comfort, her mind a worried mess of confusion from the sudden turn of emotions and thoughts that had wrenched themselves from the recesses of her brain. She calmed slowly, minute passing to minute, and when the broken line of thought refused to return she straightened herself from the protective wrap and returned to thinking over her plan.

Yes, it was far and away a better decision to be proactive in this instance, as an attempt to find her own way towards help might be the only thing that could save her. Especially if things had gone badly enough that (even if her side won) she could be stuck within this room for hours, if not days. After all, there was no guarantee that after a winning fight they would begin to rebuild or assess the damage right away. They might merely poke their heads in to look for bodies and the like, notice the abject destruction surrounding her, and leave…

And Hermione really, desperately, _ absolutely _ did not want to end up starving to death inside of a blown apart room with nothing and no one to know of her passing. It was an intensely lucky miracle that she had survived the initial change at all; Human Transfiguration curses were considered as extremely Dark Magic for a number of reasons, (a lack of willing volunteers to study notwithstanding). Add to that the fact that she had remained (with the exception of that errant thought) in complete control of her faculties and mind, well, she simply couldn’t waste the valuable research potential of this situation. It wasn’t every day that a shapeshifted human maintained their sense of reason, Animagus were at a risk of losing themselves for a reason after all, and they had the most controlled change in all known Transfiguration.

_ ‘Well then,’ _ Hermione straightened out the length of her body, tasted the air, and nodded to herself, _ ‘Let’s do this.’ _

Steeled heart and resolution that ran heavy just beneath the shimmering armor of her skin (scales) urged Hermione onwards into a forced shimmy that meandered side to side as she fought to throw herself into a forward crawl. Backwards, forwards, side to side and down and up, Hermione tried valiantly to push herself up the small incline that she rested against with as much gusto as she could muster. Ever so slowly, bit by agonizing bit, she inched forward to the tune of some unknown thought pressing up against the back of her mind. 

It wasn’t a voice, nothing quite so distinct, but more the _ feeling _ of imagery; the sound a hiss that blanketed her conscious mind until she understood it for what it was, _ advice. _ The proper manner in which to move herself forward, how to look around at where she wanted to go, each and every little intricacy involved with the movement belonging to the animal she now was. If she had been born this way from the start she had no doubt that this would have all been ingrained, all given to her in a flood rather than a drip feed enhanced only by her desire to escape the grimy room.

Hermione let herself fall into those instructions until she was laser focused on only moving herself forwards from atop the granite slab she rested on. Within seconds she was sliding onwards with a barely undulating movement of scales beneath her belly and long muscles along her side expanding and contracting. Onwards, upwards, the foreign feeling of propulsion quashed beneath the elation of actual movement.

_ She was doing it! _

\---

There really wasn’t very much in the way of obstacles that could stop a snake flushed with determination, and least of all not the pittance of rubble and craters that dotted the inside of the room and the space just outside of it. Bit by bit she wound her way through shallow blasts that had now become massive valleys, outwards to the shattered granite and stone that had fallen to form a low wall ringing her in. It took her some time but eventually she was laying just where she had been sprinting and running through not some hours prior, her speed impeded by the dreadfully small size of her body.

Hermione sniffed at the air with her tongue, _ ‘So I’m obviously not very large, or I’d have been here sooner I think.’ _ She stopped atop a ruined patch of grass while the forward third of her body leaned up on itself to peer at a higher vantage point.

Everything around her _ smelled. _ Or rather, tasted.

From everywhere around her came the scent and taste of dust, of ashes, of rotting and broken things all laying scattered about from the obvious atrocities of mayhem and destruction. There wasn’t much evidence to suggest that the War was still raging along outside on campus grounds, not now at least, and no one was up or around her. No sounds. No vibrations. Just open land and empty space-

** _"Hide, too open!" _ **

Without any sense of warning or caution, the thought wrapped outwards from the recesses of her brain; darkness and foreboding terror all spoken at her in a hiss more like a scream than a whisper. A feeling of suddenly being too exposed, the crushing fear of predators lurking among the wreckage, the terrifying nightmare of being caught under foot or torn to pieces-

Her body ceded control without any input on her part, her length and bulk underneath the spell of whatever she had been turned into, blinded and coerced by a fear that had her wandering towards a tilted jumble of stone. Her mind was simple now, eerily straightforward in its wishes; _ hide, run, nest deep, need safety- _

Hermione came back to herself with a snap more physical than mental, her mind shooting to the forefront as she stilled in terror. 

There, leaning against the remains of countless Golem Knights, was a woman that she had hoped to never see again, a woman who had laid claim to her with teeth and blood, her hate burning acrid marks into her veins.

Bellatrix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking these will all be shorter-ish chapters


	3. A Lion in Snakeskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parseltongue = :bolded italics:

For the first time in Bellatrix’s relatively broken life, she was content.

She was… happy, for lack of a better word. An easy grin was stretched out across her face and the stilted, almost jarringly haunted method with which she usually carried herself had faded off to the background of a normal cadence. Her shoulders were slouched to the side, her head and neck bent back, both arms loose at her sides and hands unclenched. 

Her Lord had been victorious, her bloodlust had been sated, _ the day was won. _

That wasn’t to say she was wandering about unprepared, or lackadaisical, no; she was still a tightly wound up ball of death and dismemberment that was just waiting to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting foe, even if there was no particular _ need _for it at the moment. Her Lord was busy for a little while yet, off treating with the turncoats and survivors, all those few who in their last moments of defense had decided instead that remaining alive in the New World was a better alternative to a certain painful death. He would show them leniency (or a lesser version of it, at least), throw them to Azkaban for a time, and then when they were good and reformed they would be freed to join the masses in celebrating His magnificent Ascent.

And she would be by _ His _side for as long as He would have her. 

But for the moment? While she waited on His commands to seek out the fleeing Order? She planned on using the down time to relax, catch her breath, and prepare for the moment she would be needed again.

The battle itself had been a hard won thing of near uncertainty at times, the defenders pushing back against the death they dealt only to rise up behind the counter with challenges and strategy of their own. It hadn’t been easy, none of it had. And she was oh so very tired.

Her feet kicked their way through broken statues and downed bodies, her wand moving each out of her path before divesting them of any remaining personal effects. One of the many benefits to winning a true battle was the right to find boons or tokens, treats and prizes that had been hard won from their opposite members. She hadn’t rifled through the dead or dying since the last War, as up until this point the fights had only consisted of small skirmishes and ambush attacks; nothing to allow her leeway to search through pockets or fleece their hides. As it was, Bellatrix felt owed at least some small token of her hard work, some treasure that someone had gone out of their way to protect.

But the problem lay in that their enemy had been mostly school children and Professors. They held no coins, no golden tchotchkes, nothing that would be a worthy prize or trophy for her mantle.

“Bugger em’,” Bellatrix muttered under her breath as she stepped through a wave of particularly lasting Dark Magic, the ethereal warmth and flush washing over her as the remnants of some colossal spellwork slowly filtered away. She was surrounded on either side with a circle of destroyed statues and broken figures, whatever spell having been used still soaking up all the residual energy of the space. She sat down on the upturned chest of a headless Knight and relaxed herself to drink in the spillover of darkness.

Hopefully she would find something of worth within the Castle itself, once the space had been deemed accessible, that was. Her Lord was currently holding court within the broken remnants of the Great Hall, and teams of snatchers were clearing the rooms one by one with a single-minded purpose. Oh, they might steal something of value while they were inside, but Bellatrix had a feeling that most (if not all) of them were too uneducated to pick out anything of any real worth. If she was lucky then she would be one of the first to clean up after them, and something would call to her to-

Bellatrix stood, body turning, head swiveling as something low and sibilant reached up to startle her ears.

Her wand was out in a flash as the noise continued to make itself known, her black eyes peering all around to the cracks and crevices at her feet. There was something here, something laying beneath the rubble and moving towards her with a pace and a voiced desire that had her shivering in anticipation. Remnants of a curse? Maybe, if the magic used to cast it was strong enough it could still be laying in wait to activate itself. An animal? More likely, but that left the question of _ why. _ Had she upset some nest with her wandering? Had the battle torn apart some familiar from its Master, or a mother from its children?

“Where are you-”

Her words never finished, a length of colored rope shooting up from the ground at her side from where it had been wedged in between two broken foundation stones. The creature was fast enough to have her rushing backwards for space, her left hand shooting out to wrap about it just inches from teeth meeting face.

_ ‘A snake then,’ _ she observed the small mouth nipping at open air, _ ‘And quite a pretty one at that.’ _

Bellatrix watched with thinly veiled amusement as the small beast wrapped around her wrist and cinched itself down tightly, mouth leveraging to grab onto her pale skin with little needle sharp teeth. The length of it was a highly patterned with gold and red, repeating whirls of deep ochre running down the length of its back while the sides were the highly expressive glitter of pyrite. The underbelly was cream and body thin, no thicker than half her wrist at the most, but the sheer force carried within its length was somewhat astonishing to the witch.

This creature had been aimed to kill her if it could, but the lack of fangs had her no more worried than if it were a particularly rambunctious kitten. Unless it chewed its venom in, that would be a bother for sure but no more than what could be fixed by quickly downing a bezoar. She smiled broken teeth at the snake as it continued to attempt its assault, one hand holding up the beast and the other reaching forward grasp its head when teeth once again found its mark.

“Little one,” Bellatrix pried the snake loose, “You seem quite adamant about killing me, why’s that?”

The snake answered with a renewed hiss and a thrashing of its body that had her gripping tighter as she brought it eye to eye. 

“Such fight,” fingers ran down its back, the end of its body rapidly coiling and uncoiling in a bid for escape, “I think I like you.” The snake froze at her grin, almost as if it could understand her, slit eyes wide and brightly lit with a furious yellow venom.

Bellatrix turned to walk back towards the main courtyard with the snake still struggling within her grasp, “Now, now, little one, you attacked me first. I think I know what to do with you though, so no worries. After all, I haven’t found anything else within this shit-heap,” she kicked the disembodied head of a statue away from her in example, “And by right of conquest you lost. I think I’ll keep you little one, as my prize. What do you think?”

She regarded the still struggling snake, which up until she made her intentions known had been rapidly attempting to slither its way out of her hold, but now instead was lying limp and staring at her with those beautifully dangerous eyes.

“Yes, yes,” she continued onwards and ran a nail down the pattern of its scales, “You’ll do.”

\---

:**_No, no, no!_**:

Hermione’s mind and body were in complete alignment as she screamed (as much as she could through this odd language that had been heaped upon her), and writhed in a bid to escape the Dark Witch’s grasp. No use though; Bellatrix had her tightly held and seemed to understand that her distress was more than just the errant fleeing of a smaller creature. Her fingers and hands were nimble enough to pull and twist until moving forward always brought her right back to where she had begun. 

:**_No!_**: 

It seemed that Lady Luck (and Magic) both had their sights set on her, and neither with anything approaching goodwill in mind. Her friends, the defenders of Hogwarts (even the neutral face of Draco _ fucking _ Malfoy), all of them gone, all of them missing, and in their place the remnants of Voldemort’s army remained whole and unbroken. And of course she just happened to find the woman who had carved into her not even a few days prior. 

The longer that the witch crowed to her, the further they moved from where she had first attacked (stupidly, in a flash of blindingly ridiculous Gryffindor bravery), and the more her lethargic body began to flag. Malnutrition, a strenuous forced change, and the mind-numbing cold of Dark Magic suffusing the air and land had all taken their toll on her resources until she was unable to do much of anything besides wrap herself up along Bellatrix’s arm, hissing angrily while she stared up at the woman with hatred and fear swirling around her belly.

Hermione slightly recoiled from the witch when a finger came down to press against her snout, “What am I going to call you then, hmm? I can’t go along calling you little one all the time, the Dark Lord has already claimed that for Nagini.” Hermione shifted and moved her head from side to side as the witch moved a thumb underneath her jaw, the digit stroking along her in (somewhat) soothing circular patterns, “You’ll need a name of your own. I may not have won you off some imbecile, but _ you _ attacked _ me. _ Familiars have come to witches in stranger ways, and you’re mine now fair and square.”

:**_No, you most certainly do NOT own me,_**: Hermione replied in vain, :**_I am not a pet you fucking murderess!_**:

“Hm,” Bellatrix rounded the corner leading towards the bridge of the courtyard, deftly stepping atop loose stone and rubble, “What about Cassiopeia? You remind me of the Bitch, she was always biting at people. Words,” Bellatrix cocked her head and stroked down the length of Hermione’s side, “She always used words, not fangs, but it’s still apt I think. Especially with me about to-”

The witch didn’t get a chance to finish her words; her booted feet suddenly unbalanced as she stumbled over a loose brick, the stone snapping in half beneath the witch’s weight and giving out. Bellatrix stumbled down to the side, her feet entirely losing their grip of the remaining pile until she was forced to reach out with both hands to keep herself from falling straight down on her face.

Her movements (to Hermione’s absolute and utter amazement,) meant that her body was nearly flung away from the witch in a single grasping move, her length dropping from the hold and onto the rigid scales of her stomach, whole self curling inwards to prevent any serious injury.

She was _ free! _

Without a single moment to spare, Hermione uncurled herself and began to speed away from the heinous witch, her instincts directing her as she fled. Holes on either side were open and available, her sinuous body just thin enough to enter one that had been carved out by some blast or another, body moving faster and faster-

“_ Accio _Cassiopeia!”

_ ‘What? No, no!’ _ Hermione felt the telltale signs of magic wrapping around her, body levitated upwards and backwards from the hole she had halfway crawled into. She floated weightlessly back towards the woman’s waiting grip, thrashing and whipping side to side until Bellatrix had a firm hold on her neck once again.

Bellatrix lifted her until they were eye to eye, Hermione hissing furiously in her face, “Not getting away that easily little Cass, not until I complete the Familiar Bond at least. But I do so _ love _ your spark.”

Hermione’s overtaxed mind finally gave out just as her exhausted body fell limp within the witch’s grasp, dejected and forlorn at the fate that had befallen her. Without conscious thought her tail wrapped up and around Bellatrix’s wrist until she was securely locked in place, her mind closing off to hide away from the madness of this mess and thoughts of escape securely locked away.

\--- 

“Well then, who did we lose?” The silent words left Voldemort’s lips from where he sat atop the dais he had chosen for himself, the now broken and battered chair that Dumbledore had once graced. The hall around him was less of a mess than it had been during the fighting, all the rubble and bodies moved to one side in an effort to clear a space out, the air free of dust or pulverized mortar.

“We’ve lost Rookwood, my Lord,” Yaxley somberly addressed him, his head slightly bowed as he began to recount their fallen. “He was found sliced in twain near the forest with no one around him though, so we’re not sure who did the deed.”

Voldemort nodded at his words; some deaths were to have been expected, but he had hoped to not lose many (if any) of his inner circle. That he had was a shame, but not one that couldn’t be placated and fixed.

“A pity then, his mind was quite useful to our cause. Determine his replacement from among the Ministry, preferably someone in the Department of Mysteries but if you’ve another candidate from outside, I’ll hear you out. Get a name to me within a fortnight.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Yaxley nodded in his direction, eyes as deferential as they could be.

“Any others then?” He let his voice rise up, tired and simply wanting this long day to end. Winning this battle wasn’t the end of the War, but it had certainly thrust him up to the clear status of a victor. From here on out it would be more politics and policing than anything else, and for the moment he desired nothing more than to leave and savor the accomplishment. But, alas, managing the disparate portions of his armies came first.

“It appears that Dolohov will be out of commission for a long while, if not permanently. Someone froze his left side, and then shattered it with a bone-breaker. For the moment we’ll just have to wait and see if we can put him back on two feet. Bellatrix,” Yaxley turned to stare at the witch opposite him, his expression grim and sorrowful, “Your husband was among the dead. Someone caught him with an Avada, we think.”

Voldemort watched with amusement as the witch merely rolled her eyes, pulling the snake that had latched itself about her arm into a ball around her free hand, long fingers wiping down its golden flank, “No matter then. I’ll revert my name, claim my portion of the Lestrange inheritance, and then be done with the family for good,” she turned away, Voldemort's eyes following her gaze towards Rodolphus’s younger brother sitting further along the oaken table, “So long as that’s not a problem with you, Rabby.”

The proclamation might have widened a few pairs of eyes when she mentioned changing her name, removing herself entirely from the Lestrange tree or any further hold to it, but he knew she had particular… _ deviances. _ That she hadn’t truly loved the man was no shock or surprising realization, more the culmination of suspicions more than anything else.

“‘Course not,” Rabastan nodded once before returning his eyes to Voldemort, his gaze shifting at odd intervals to look at the snake within Bellatrix’s hold.

Yaxley peered between the two of them before nervously clearing his throat and continuing, “The last of the Circle to fall was Crouch-”

:**_No, no, no! He can’t!_**:

Yaxley’s voice petered out into nonexistence, Voldemort’s weary mind spinning itself in place, _ ‘How would he understand that?’, _ before he realized it wasn’t the _ sound _ that they were responding to, but the curious little creature that was making it. The snake within Bellatrix’s grasp was weaving back and forth in an effort to escape the hold, his Lieutenant moving hand under hand to keep it moving in place and off of the tabletop. He stared in rapt confusion at the little show as Nagini slid up along the back of his chair and over his shoulder, her lumbering bulk pressing down against the table in her bid to move forward to the agitated little snake.

“Bellatrix,” he rose from his seat with a sigh and hands placed palm down across the table, Nagini completing her climb and setting off. “What do you have there?”

Bellatrix smiled sweetly up at him with a mouth set to a wide grin and lightning behind the dark veil of her eyes, “I found her, my Lord. She attempted to kill me, failed miserably at it as well. I’ve claimed her in compensation.”

His lips twitched at the answer, more than aware enough to come up with scenarios of what she might end up doing to the poor animal, “As your Familiar? As a pet? Or something that you intend to torture? You know I take a dim view of those who would hurt a creature so close to me…”

The threat in his voice was barely more than a whisper, yet he saw the second she realized it for what it was, “I won’t torture her, my Lord, I plan on taking her as a Familiar. I’ll be completing the ritual tonight.”

That was… odd, but not so much as to be out of order for her. He knew the madness she displayed was mostly just a mask to deceive and lull in foes, but every now and then… Well, it paid to make sure.

“Bring her here.”

The witch moved to his words as fast as she could, the chair beneath her flying backwards to end up clattering on the ground with her haste. Avery swished a finger to bring it back to position, all eyes on the witch as she moved forward to kneel before him, Nagini half on and half off the table as she watched silently. The snake _ was _ quite beautiful, he supposed, eyes peering down with a bare tilt of his head; all rosy gold and hardened rust in patterns and whirls unusual to his eye. A species he couldn’t recognize then, and a further little mystery to solve.

No bother with that though, he knew he needed the distraction. Meetings were always so dull, after all.

:**_Little one,_**: he addressed the serpent at his side, :**_What do you think?_**:

Nagini pressed against his side as she shifted forward, snout poking up against the smaller snake within Bellatrix’s hands, her long tongue flickering in and out all the while. She was silent for some moments, something passing between them that only their kind could understand, but when it was over she pulled back and rose up to drape herself across his form, voice pressed up against his ear.

:**_Not a true snake,_**: Nagini answered in somewhat of a disbelieving tone (if hisses could even properly convey that), the smaller snake continuously trying to ball herself up and hide away from both of their eyes.

:**_Not a true snake? Then what is she?_**: Voldemort was more than just a little confused by how his familiar answered that question, but the levity of winning the day and exhaustion flaring in his bones was more than enough for him to consent to this distraction. There was a time for this, right now, as there would be forever more.

And besides; he wanted to know, now. _ ‘Just what exactly is this?’ _

:**_Something… something was Human once, human no more,_**: Nagini shifted as she replied, eyes peering down and body clenching tighter as she changed her grip.

:**_Who were you then?_**: He addressed the snake directly now, confused even further that Bellatrix had been the one to happen upon this oddity.

:**_No one, I was cursed-_**:

Nagini shot forward off his shoulder until her maw was opened before the little serpent, a deadly hiss shooting out as she fought to find her words. Bellatrix was leaning backwards slightly, clearly not wanting to leave her newfound toy out to be harmed, but too respectful to actually flinch away.

:**_You are a liar, I know your scent, I remember your scent, you were there, you burned me!_**:

:**_I tried to burn you,_**: Bellatrix’s serpent pressed forward with jaws open and her own meager hiss of anger flitting between them, :**_I tried, and yet you came out unscathed, you stupid snake!_**:

“Bellatrix,” he asked, moving in between his seething familiar and the unknown serpent, “What is her name? And if you wouldn’t mind, may I hold her?”

Some at the table may have wondered why he hadn’t just plucked the offending reptile from her hands, why he bothered with the pleasantries at all, but Bellatrix was a loyal warrior and decorum simply wouldn’t allow him to be so impolite. He waited as her eyes shifted with unease, head bowing down slowly as her hands reached up to offer it to him, “Her name is Cassiopeia, my Lord.”

“Cassiopeia,” his hands wrapped around the serpent's torso, letting it bite and nibble with ineffectual teeth along the pale expanse of his wrist, “A good name, :**_But who are you really?_**:

The serpent let up its pitiable assault, peering up at him until he could _ feel _ the mental snap of her boundaries along with the reverberation that came when he could not overpass it; the barrier between species too hard for anyone, even him, to cross. Still though, within those yellow eyes he could sense the swiftest flash of fear.


	4. Dry Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of commas. My bad.

Hermione could only lay quietly within Voldemort’s cold grasp as dozens of involuntary shivers ran up and down the twisting length of her spine, the whole _ ‘New body, new sensations,’ _ not translating very well with all the stress and nervousness that was pouring out from her mostly intact human mind. Every second that she lay there her nervous system and (she _ hated _ to admit this as what it was,) reptile portion of her brain squashed down tighter and tighter against any action that didn’t begin or end with her laying there frozen when she would have preferred to run. Voldemort was continuing to stare down at her limp self as if she were some sort of broken toy; _ the _ big Bad, _ the _ worst villain in modern Wizarding memory, and every single ounce of his effort and energy was currently being directed down to focus in on her, and her alone.

Not to mention the piercing attention that she was garnering from his familiar as well, Nagini’s slitted eyes raking up and down the length of her small form to fill Hermione with the frightful knowledge that she could be eaten up and crushed down to small bits at any given second.

In the end it was her frightened unconscious mind that ended up betraying her. Fear bottled up uncontrollably until it eventually spilled out when the staring contest continued on, her mind forcing out an action after it became clear to her that there was nothing she could do, and biting the smarmy bastard would do little more than tickle him.

:**_I’m Hermione! Hermione Granger, please, please-don’t-hurt-me-please-don’t-_**:

The surprise that his face fell into at her reply was quickly mirrored by herself (or as much as she thought a snake might look surprised,) when she realized the cowardice she had fallen into. Most appalling though was the hissed rush of words that trembled all together, her body frozen with abject terror as she gave up completely.

His face twisted inwards with a smirk she was more than used to seeing, :**_Ah, well we’d been wondering where you had gone off to. By all reports you were nowhere to be found in the aftermath. Though, to be quite honest, most of us had just assumed the Golden Girl had run off with the Blood Traitor. I never once would have expected you to turn up like this. Tell me then Girl,_**: he leaned in close to her face as Nagini crawled away and back towards the table, :** _What happened to you?:_**

Hermione swallowed down against the terror building through her heart, long body shifting all around until she had a tight hold on his wrist. She knew the game was up; there was no way that he would let her go now, it was likely he wouldn’t have even done so even if she hadn’t given up her name. Nagini’s whispers would have led him to hold onto her even tighter, as unsure of her identity as he would have been. No, as far as she could tell this moment had been forced, and the best option left remaining to her was to shove aside the Gryffindor intuition that demanded her to attack (uselessly, again), or clam up and resist as much as she could.

Yes, it was better she subsume herself beneath the core tenets of _ this _ House’s traits instead.

:**_Barty Crouch is what happened, HE cursed me into this wretched…,_**: words failed her, tail curling in and out as she fought through numbness to make her emotions known, :**_This wretched freak of a form, and now he’s dead!_**:

Voldemort peered at her for the length of some moments with nothing at all to be interpreted behind his blindingly red eyes, more than likely running through the same line of thought as she was at just that instant; with Crouch now dead and gone the only hope she would ever have of returning to her rightful form was a faint chance that the magic would one day run out on its own. That _ that _ was her most likely scenario hurt something deep inside her, her mind musing over the depressing realization that her chances of ever finding someone who could reverse it on their own were sinking lower and lower. McGonagall might have been able to undo the damage, Hell, even _ she _ might have been able to do so as well given her penchant for Transfiguration and the dutiful study of _ everything; _but without hands or a wand the prospects of that happening were nil.

:**_Well then I’ll give you this at the least; you three fought valiantly against us, and from what I’ve heard you’re the reason you even came so far in the first place. As I do not seek to spill magical blood whenever it is not needed, I shall spare your pitiful life. I will not kill you, Mudblood, but neither will I end your suffering._**: He paused after that, leaving Hermione’s mind and body to breathe a (relatively, for her size at least,) heavy sigh of relief towards that meager guarantee of her safety. :**_I will not release you from this form. No, for the crime of having destroyed shards of my precious soul, I believe life on your belly will be quite the fitting punishment. Bellatrix will have you, claim you, and that is where I’ll leave you. You are no more worry to me than a housefly; the Boy is dead and I’ve no need of you at all, even for information or torture. Take this generosity as it is, you will receive nothing kinder. You would still do best to remain at Bellatrix’s side. I’m sure the road ahead will be long and arduous as we stamp out the last traces of feeble resistance, whose to say you wouldn’t be trodden underfoot? The Boy is dead, his defenders routed. The light is broken. Perhaps in time you’ll come to embrace the life I’ve so graciously allowed you to keep, but perhaps not. Regardless, it is no concern of mine._**:

_ ‘The Boy… he’s… Harry no…,’ _ Hermione’s body fell limp within his grasp, her coils unlocking from the hold that they had gripped around his arm and shifting off to the side until Voldemort was holding her fully, two cold palms underneath her small bulk, and her head rolling off to the side to hang in shame and sorrow. It couldn’t be true, could it? Was he intentionally lying, trying to trip her up and deceive her? What would he even gain from that, what could he possibly obtain from obfuscating the truth? He already had her, literally sitting demurely within the palms of his hands, but surely it was a lie, surely Harry hadn’t… he couldn’t have died… 

Right?

She couldn’t know. 

She knew right then and there that thinking about it and wondering over whether there was any truth to his words was an action fraught with nothing but frustrating sadness, and yet still she focused herself on it regardless. At some point memory and emotion turned into a fuzzy blanket wrapping over her mind, soft instincts reaching up to replace her conscious actions. She lost all awareness of his words, of whether or not he continued speaking or asking questions, and soon enough (to her awareness of time, at least) she found herself passed back to the waiting Dark Witch; safely held in looping coils that sought out a firm connection to the woman’s hands and arms.

Thumbs twinned their strokes up along her head and neck, two fingers branching off to trace patterns that followed the whirling ripples of scale atop her back and massage something close to calmness beneath her muscles. Hermione knew what this witch had done, knew of all the horror that she had unleashed, of all the pain she had brought to her specifically; but still she found herself leaning into the affection with a spasmodic half-awareness that couldn’t break free from the looping sadness of half-remembered memories playing with all the intensity of a slideshow within her brain.

She lost herself, sitting there with her body as heavy as coiled rope, mind and thoughts shrouded and leaden with her loss.

\---

Bellatrix wasn’t precisely sure what words had been said or gone on between her Familiar-to-be and her Lord, but whatever it was must have involved something to do about her rather excitable behavior. When she reached beneath His hands to pick up the slowly moving reptile, the most she received was nothing more than a slowly rolling ball of scales and sorrowful eyes. 

Nagini seemed likewise perturbed by the days events; the long serpent having left her Master’s side to slowly wind her way over and peek above the edge of Bellatrix’s chair, massive head peering down into the balled up reptile currently resting within her lap. Nagini’s body remained preternaturally still, and Bellatrix chose to do the same so as to not disturb whatever exactly was happening here, Nagini’s head unshifting, unmoving, barely even rocking to indicate that she was taking in breath.

_ ‘Wonder what’s this all about then, _ ’ Bellatrix mused to herself, her mind spanning out acoss a thousand kilometers from the meeting taking place around her. Truth be told she knew she should have been paying attention to the words being spoken by all involved, she _ knew _ that any missed sentence could be enough to come back and potentially bite her on the arse, but all her battle lust had faded, her familiar was obviously in some sort of… _ sort, _ or another, and she had been awake for nigh on thirty-six hours at this point.

She had earned at least this small respite from attentive listening.

Eventually time passed by as it was wont to do, leaving Bellatrix to nearly miss the moment they were excused from the table, scuffling chairs and stooped bodies wandering by her until her black eyes perked up again. Nagini seemed to pull away from her introspection as well, the heavy serpent pulling backwards to extricate herself from the resting position she had fallen into, eyes finally peeled away from the still slumbering snake now resting atop Bellatrix’s thigh. 

Bellatrix pushed herself backwards, nodded once to Yaxley as he passed her by, her feet aching and sullen as she stretched her twinging back and wrapped Cassiopeia around her arm.

“Bellatrix,” the voice of her Master spoke up before she could turn fully towards the doors, body rocking backwards in her haste to face him and bow down.

_ ‘Should have paid attention Bella, this is what you get,’ _ a voice admonished her within her head, heartbeat rising as she prepared to be called out on her lack of presence.

“Yes, my Lord,” she dropped to her knees, Cassiopeia slowly shifting into somewhat of a state near wakefulness, coils sliding and grabbing tighter as she moved, “How may I serve you?”

Her Master leaned back into his seat, one hand wrapped around the knob at the end of the arm of the chair, the other resting to prop his chin atop knuckles, eyes darkly red and brooding, “You may serve me by resting, same as Severus. For the moment I’m not expecting much to come of the resistance, you’ll both take this time to heal and recoup your strength.”

“But my Lord, I can serve you better-”

_ “Bellatrix,” _ his words turned iron and bitter, sparks bridging the gaps between his fingers and a deathly cold spreading out to permeate the air, “Do you presume, in all your _ infinite _ wisdom, to tell me that _ you _ know better about the state of my troops than myself?”

_ ‘Oh bugger.’ _

“No, no of course not my Lord,” she back pedaled as quickly as she could, the animal around her arm shaking slightly as shivers began to wrack her body; she’d _ displeased _ Him, she’d _ upset _ Him, she’d-

“Then you will do as I command. Rest, recuperate, take the time to heal and prepare yourself. You are not to join any missions, any actions or meetings, not until the next thirty moons have passed. Remain at your sister’s Manor, and,” he paused to crook a finger in Nagini’s direction, “Take Nagini with you. Now that the Boy is dead, we’ve nothing more to fear in terms of immediate harm to her. Keep her that way, safe, happy, and healthy. If you fail, she will not hesitate to let me know. Is that understood?”

Merlin’s arse she couldn’t believe her luck. Somehow, someway, He had decided to show mercy where an interruption such as her own would have ordinarily warranted an exceedingly painful _ Crucio, _and several scathing word that would have stung her pride and resolve far harsher than any spell ever could. She knew without a doubt that she would not waste this generosity, that much was for sure.

“Of course, my Lord. I understand.”

“Good,” he smiled thinly, “Now go.”

She nodded from where she was kneeling before standing into a turn, ready to leave and steps ringing hollow against the hard stone beneath her.

“Ah, and Bellatrix,” his words halted her momentum, body turning as fast as she could manage to face him, “Ensure that you complete that bond with Cassiopeia tonight, and ward the Manor against her leaving. A familiar would do you well, and you’ve chosen a perfect animal.”

Her eyes blinked wide once, twice, before her brain once again remembered that _ words _ were needed to speak, “Y-yes, my Lord. I will, my Lord. Thank you,” her brain stumbled upon itself again, _ ‘Is that too many ‘My Lord’s?’, _her lips opening breathlessly as she stared, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Nagini joined her side after a few seconds of her walking towards the entrance, her body shivering as she awaited the snake before walking through the doors completely. The cracking sound of apparition was the only thing to follow her as she stepped on past the threshold, Nagini clinging to her shoulders and Cassiopeia safely within her grasp, body twisting off towards Malfoy Manor.

\---

The next moment that Hermione was fully cognizant of, fully aware and an actively participating member instead of only observing beneath the thin sea blanketing her thoughts, was Bellatrix’s (and by extension, her own) arrival _ back _ at Malfoy Manor. Though this time it was decidedly better handled; no Snatchers dragging her around and no immediate fear that Harry-

_ ‘Not thinking of that, no, no, no.’ _

The building itself looked just the same as it had the last time that she’d seen it, and even then it had seemed to loom so high above her with its twisting spires and architecture actively designed to break the common spirit. It rested upon its plot of land with no small amount of disdain and enmity, and even the pure white peacocks all wandering around in clusters amid the few cleared spaces on the lawn weren’t enough to alleviate the feeling of being _ beneath _ something’s massive boot heel.

_ ‘Though I suppose that’s something I’ll have to worry about now,’ _ Hermione sulked in the relative safety of her mind, content for the moment to let the Dark Witch carry her around as some common pet, and not the witch she truly was. After all, it wasn’t like she could get very far if she slipped from her grasp, not in this form anyways. The additional sight of the white birds pecking at anything that moved beneath them was more than enough of a fright to wedge animal fear in between the tentative plan she had at first been conjuring in her mind for use as an escape.

All birds have beaks, after all, and Hermione knew with only the barest hint from her new instincts that those talons were razor sharp.

Not to mention the reality of Voldemort’s terrifying words.

She wasn’t quite sure if she could believe him yet, couldn’t really, as he hadn’t made a single effort to drag out a body for her to view. But if she was being honest then there wasn’t very much for her to do other than wait within Bellatrix’s clutches for the right moment to come to pass. At least in this place, in this form, she would (relatively) safe; no need to go foraging on her own, no need to watch out for predators that would just as soon eat her as they would look at her, and no need to hide from humans who would be unable to understand who she truly was.

No, for the first time since the spell had smashed into her body, she and her more reptile mind were in agreement.

She was tired; bone weary and exhausted through and through.

She was terrified; even with no one actively harming or looking to hurt her, the goings-on around her filled her with a fear towards not only her future, but the future of the British Wizarding world as well.

It was best she wait and bide her time, best she recoup what little strength she had and develop a plan of escape once she was rested. That’s what a true Lion would do, and so even in this snakes skin she would do so as well.

\---

When they finally arrived Narcissa Malfoy was there to greet Bellatrix at the door, the older woman now appearing in a far more stately and regal manner than the thin veneer of terrifying miasma that she had been lodged underneath during the last time Hermione had seen her. Her hair was pulled back into a ball of blonde and brown curls that sat just atop the crown of her head, her blue eyes two shining rings of sapphire only marred by the freshly bruised skin below them. Narcissa held herself as still and tall as she could, nodding solemnly towards the woman who was carrying Hermione, but her rigid demeanor abruptly changed when Bellatrix uttered a simple, “We won.”

As soon as the words left her lips the woman moved, leaving Hermione to use all of her remaining strength to wiggle up and out of Bellatrix’s grasp; Narcissa’s rushing form swallowing up the space she had been laying in, arms reaching up and around while Hermione fled to avoid being crushed between them both. Her refuge became Bellatrix’s neck, Narcissa’s head on one side, dark curls draping her own form on the other. When it became clear they weren’t going to separate any time soon, she settled in with a twitch of her tail and tightened the hold she had over the woman’s neck, long length hardening as muscles clamped down.

:**_Calm down,_**: Nagini half whispered, half laughed, safely away from the sisters in her position at Bellatrix’s side. Her long body rose up as she moved to stare Hermione in the eyes, tongue flickering languidly as she did so. :**_Just bite them if they do that ever again, a human should never forget where you are._**:

Hermione startled at Nagini’s words, staring (quite literally, to an unfortunate degree) as the snake gave her that oddly stated piece of advice. Her eyes, twin orbs of cracked yellow that appeared larger the longer that she stared, kept place for some moments before snake appeared to decide on something or another.

:**_Or not,_**: Nagini finally continued on after Hermione remained unmoving, her hiss tainted with enough of a snark that Hermione started gasping in surprise, :**_It’s up to you Fire-Flinger._**:

Hermione’s jaw dropped open with a hiss while Nagini backed up, her bulk dropping low enough until she could continue on and wind her way between the still embracing sisters, :**_Wait,_**: Hermione’s voice went on unheeded, :**_Hey! That’s not my name!_**:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ritual next chap


	5. Boundless Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix has a chat, girl to (not)-girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing? 
> 
> Never heard of her.

“Um, Bellatrix,” Narcissa’s soft voice filtered up as she moved to disentangle herself from the elder sibling, “What is _ that? _ And why is Nagini here without the Dark Lord…?”

The world seemed to freeze around Bellatrix as she stared in confusion for a number of seconds before realizing that Narcissa was referring to the snake currently wrapped up around her neck. She startled and raised a hand to the reptile, fingers stroking patterns against her scales to wake her from whatever torpor she had fallen under, “Oh, Narcissa, this is Cassiopeia.”

She reached deft fingers up to her new living necklace and unwound the reptile from her position with careful grace and gentleness. The snake wrapped the end of her tail around Bellatrix’s fingers while the remainder of her small bulk twisted around until she could stare at Narcissa with relative security, a loop of coiled muscle protecting her head so that only eyes, her nose, and a flickering tongue could be seen.

“Cassiopeia, this is Narcissa, my younger sister.” Bellatrix held her hand forward while Narcissa stepped tentatively backwards, her mouth a thin line while her eyes flitted between Cassiopeia and herself. “I found her after the battle, or rather she found me. Tried to attack me, couldn’t end it. So she’ll be my Familiar now. As for why Nagini is here, she’s been given leave to rest up for a bit. I assume being carted around all the time must be tiring. On that note, Severus and I have been given leave as well. We’re to remain off duty for one month.”

Her sister stepped backwards to allow her entrance to the home, her responses polite if a little curt, something that Bellatrix attributed to only just finally finding herself relieved from the pressures of the War. No doubt her Lord would find finer accommodations now that the Light had been soundly defeated; Malfoy Manor was a marvel of architecture and magical engineering but even she knew there were better lairs to be had.

“So then what’re you planning on doing with… Cassiopeia? Besides taking her as a Familiar? You’ll just do what, have her around? Bring her to tea?” Narcissa beat a rhythm against the floor as she moved from room to room, curling in and out from the foyer to the back halls with one destination in mind.

“Yes Cissa, I plan on doing _ exactly _ that. She’ll never leave my side again; you’ll see.” She watched her sister’s eyes narrow with displeasure at the acerbic tone she’d replied in, the fire Bellatrix so loved to watch now sparking to new light. “Besides, Cassi doesn’t seem too hung up over her loss anymore, do you Cassi?” She ran a sharp fingertip along the spirals clinging tightly to her wrist until the snake perked up to the movement and interaction with a flick of her tongue and head that lolled side to side in tune with their pace.

“Cass, or Cassiopeia, I refuse to have a snake in the house with a name so similar to what Lucius-”

“And me,” Bellatrix interrupted.

“... Yes, so similar to what Lucius and _ you _ use.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes as she turned a corner, feet increasing their pace to keep shoulder to shoulder with Narcissa, “Fine then, Cass it is. Regardless all that, I’ve needed a new Familiar for a while now. Alera’s been dead and in the ground for decades, it’s about time I had a new one. It just doesn’t do for a proper witch to not have one, you know?”

“Yes Bellatrix,” that tone of _ why-do-I-even-bother-with-you _ crept up into her sister’s voice, “I know that. But we keep the peacocks on the property at all times. Are you really planning on dragging that snake off everywhere with you? Hold her in your lap every meeting, keep her on hand for every mission?”

“Yes.” She smiled when Narcissa’s entire head rolled with the force of her eyes, the sight setting genuinely mirthful giggles to flit about her chest. Bellatrix loved her dear sister to Hell and back, but ever since she had first left home the younger Black had taken to overanalyzing every decision she ever made, every word she ever uttered, and the lack of tact had only increased once she made her way home from Azkaban. She’d been worried for some days after waking inside a hidden room that Narcissa thought herself to be the eldest; the one born to protect and sacrifice herself for the good of the whole. _ ‘Bugger that,’ _ her inner thoughts turned dark, _ ‘That’s my responsibility.’ _

“Look Cissa, I’m on a full month’s rest, straight from the Dark Lord himself. After it’s up I don’t imagine that there’ll be very much to do, physically at least. We’ll hunt a few of the stragglers, nip their resistance in the bud, and all be home for supper. Hogwarts was their last true fight, they’ve no leg to stand on anymore.”

“But how can you be sure of that,” Narcissa stopped her forward momentum and turned to give her a scathing look, “My husband almost died, my son almost died, _ you _ almost died! How the hell are you so sure that this is over? That you can rest? Relax? I can’t!”

“Yes you can,” she whispered as she pulled the younger witch into a grasping hug, “The Dark Lord has willed it so; your family is safe, and we’ve won. Let me have my eccentricities, you have your safety. It’s alright Cissa.”

Truth be told it was more than alright, her Lord had triumphed, the Light had crumbled, and all would be well with the world. She was sure of it, absolutely positive that this was the correct order of events (even if it had taken her far too long to get here). She knew these words would only placate Narcissa for so long, her sister was never one for blind obedience and fervor, and soon enough she would need to broach the topic of the future, theirs and her own. But for now, a hug and genuine affection would have to do. 

“Besides, now that I’m on rest we’ll have all the time in the- _ Ow!” _ Bellatrix pulled away from Narcissa with a lightning speed that had the blonde stepping back in surprise, her eyes glued to the snake now wrapped around her hand with its mouth latched onto the skin between her thumb and forefinger. The snake released her hold when their eyes met up, long neck pulling backwards and head swaying side to side; her mouth opening and closing in what Bellatrix assumed must be whatever passed as reptile laughter.

“Ha, ha, ha,” she raised the serpent back towards her neck, Cassiopeia immediately climbing aboard to wrap herself securely (if a little tightly) around her throat.

Her sister laughed once, something soft and light and _ hopeful _ for the first time in who knew how many years, “Alright Bella, if you say so.”

\---

The blocked and guarded Ritual space that had been hollowed out beneath the ground line of Malfoy Manor was in just as good of a condition as Bellatrix could have hoped for. The space was one long, clean room, all devoid of the detritus and disuse that would have plagued any other large space within the Manor. Black marble stretched out underfoot to build a space twenty paces in any direction from the entrance, a semi-circle of latent magic that tapped directly into the ground wells beneath her feet. The walls were built from the same material but reinforced with glyphs and runes hidden on their back to redirect and rebound magic; nothing could come in, and everything originating from the room would circle back in on itself until it reached whatever peak was required for any rituals set up.

Most, if not all, rituals currently practiced by adherents to the Dark took place in spaces and hallowed grounds very much like this one; spaces sanctified with purification magics that were meant to drive away and clear out any foreign energy that might have accumulated over the years, the whole enclosure safe to create or bring to life anything the practitioner so desired. Of course, now that Ley Lines were in vogue the spells and methods of preparation had all fallen out of favor when the last generation began to pass, their words and spells and achievements all forgotten or left to rot.

However, Bellatrix knew that despite all that Ley Lines themselves had a variety of uses, and were all quite powerful in their own right. A single purified stream of energy being directed outwards and along magnetic lines could be just as useful as a space cleared and built to channel energy straight up out from the Earth; though Ley Lines _ did _ have that beat in that they were all nearly constantly available. A simple and proper ritual space could never wipe clean the remnants of the magic performed within in anything at all close to the speed that a Ley Line could manage, there simply wasn’t enough time or a great enough current to ride it all away on. All the actions in a proper Ritual Space were dependent upon the Witch or Wizard who oversaw it, manual labor in a time when most would prefer a simple wave of their wands rather than an honest days work.

_ ‘Bugger ‘em all though,’ _ Bellatrix thought with blackness and ink tainting her blood, _ ‘Never been one to shy from gettin’ my hands dirty, no reason to start now.’ _

Yes, no matter the practicality of one versus the other, Bellatrix felt herself just fine and dandy with maintaining the space in the same manner that she had been taught. Her Uncle Alphard had passed down all that knowledge before he burned his goodwill into ashes, and she felt no reason to deviate from his lessons now that he was gone and in the ground.

_ Sweep the space; _ only by hand and with an aged straw broom, no magic whatsoever to taint or tarnish the process.

_ Light the incense; _ reams of lilac, sage, mint and crushed cherry blossom. The smell all combined into some unruly combination that managed to saturate the whole room and anyone (or thing, for that matter) until their clothes and hair and skin were all slick with a gray ash that clung for days afterward.

_ Sigils and Runes; _ looping and whirling spires that twisted up into beautiful calligraphy that had been borne from their Ancestors first misguided steps towards true magic; towards control and domination of their own reality.

_ A Focus; _ some specific or tailored sacrifice, a boon meant to channel energy and magic through either enchantment meant to empower an object or thing above the level of mere Charms, or a destruction meant to spread apart abilities and the inherent structure until something new was made from something old.

It wasn’t the work of minutes nor was it the toil of hours to clean and set the space around her to the point of it being ready for a Familiar Bonding; a particular rite of magic that had the ability to share some tether of life from which they would never disconnect, at least until death managed to take one of them. The bond she was hoping to form was well-known for enhancing the expected lifespan of the Familiar to the point where they would generally live just as long and healthily as those they were bound to; a fate so interconnected that if the Witch died, it was only a matter of time until the Familiar as well would pass.

Bellatrix wasn’t exactly where _ why _ or _ when _ this particular rite had come about; there was no consensus on whether someone had simply wanted more time with a cherished pet, or had sought it out as a boon to their own magic. She also wasn’t sure if she could ever find answers to those questions, for now at least.

History managed to be fickle like that; it held onto the end result while whoever or whatever the catalyst had been managed to be forgotten beneath the crushing sands of time. Not that Bellatrix particularly cared anymore; in her youth she had devoted innumerable hours, extensive amounts of energy, and unretrievable resources towards answering those kinds of questions. She had trodden down all the paths available to her until in the end she was left with no hidden truths or forgotten treasures, just yet more questions and a hole burned through her coin purse.

She said all this, and more in the end, to the weighted and living rope bound up about her neck, all while Cassiopeia dashed and slithered in an attempt to flee more than a few times. A quickly grabbing palm and lightning reflexes managed to get the snake back every time so that she could continue to regale her with theory and history. Cissa couldn’t be down in the room for this particular rite, and Bellatrix had always felt more at ease with words filling up the silence all around her. That Azkaban had been _ full _ of sounds and voices mattered little, she craved soft words and even tones that didn’t end in screams and retching terror. With Cass here she allowed herself to sink into the feeling of comfort provided by keeping her hands and mind busy, elated to once again be able to share her knowledge with another. Even if the snake kept on attempting new and varied forms of escape, she was still a better listener than Fenrir or Avery had been.

Not that she would even need to worry about Cass’s escape attempts for very much longer; the ritual was supposed to provide incentive and a binding for those actions as well.

She pressed her lips atop the serpent’s head before drawing back to stare her in the eyes, “You’ll be fine Cassi, you’ll see.”

Bit by bit the space surrounding her was beginning to show the first signs of life, Cassiopeia seeming to respond to the build up of magic with increased escape attempts and barely pin-prick bites.

She hoped that the rite managed to take care of that, she sorely wished that it wouldn’t become something she would need to work on with the serpent. Snakes _ were _ known to be temperamental Familiars at the best of times, but if she was lucky she wouldn’t have to go through the headache of bearing the training herself. She couldn’t be sure of it, animal logic being so different from her own, but at times it seemed that Cassiopeia understood all her words, the snake writhing back and forth with renewed fervor whenever she came to a new portion of her explanation. Odd, yes. Enough to startle her into halting to investigate? Not so much; she had seen and known far more _ insane _ things than a snake that could understand human speech. Nagini certainly seemed to understand each word said in her presence, though Bellatrix was unsure if that was because the massive beast was a Horcrux or something more.

No matter, no bother, Bellatrix chose to instead stick her hopes with the knowledge that the rite should quell all that, should bind them both together until they held some form of empathic bond. It would be a little bit stronger coming from her end but not so strong as to overwhelm any of Cassi’s own emotions; if all went well then the serpent would know right away that Bellatrix meant her no harm at all. It would work in reverse as well; she would know what the serpent was feeling. Terror, happiness, thirst and lethargy, or even some unanticipated combination thereof, she would know it all.

Bellatrix knelt down upon the marble as Cassiopeia moved to leave her space atop her shoulders once again, fingers snapping a crack through the still air. Rainbows, sparks; all blues and greens and umber, all the shimmering forces of the rainbow alighting from her fingertips to twist into a swirl of dust and energy directed through her motions. She nodded once, a smile turning up her lips, and judged the space to be as ready as it could be.

“Well then little Cass,” Bellatrix twisted the serpent around until they were face to face, “Shall we begin?”

\---

If Hermione could have whimpered in abject terror and fear, she would have.

Not only did this murderess seek to keep her tied down as some sort of pet, she was trying to run her through with a magic that Hermione had never even heard of to ensure that she was stuck. That wasn’t to say that Hermione was afraid of the rite itself; no, she was intrigued beyond all belief that a magic like this had existed _ and she hadn’t even known about it, _ but a life bound to a Dark Witch simply wasn’t something that she had ever aspired to.

Nope; definitely not, now would she kindly show her to the exit, please and thanks.

She didn’t.

Of course.

Which at this moment left Hermione somehow rooted down to the center of a looping ring of sigils that all repeated themselves backwards and inwards through fractals and mirrors, the lines all written with limestone and sealed with heavy oil. Whatever this particular magic was, it certainly seemed to be uninterested in letting her go any time soon. From the tip of her tail to underneath her jaw, she was locked down against the floor with no play or movement from side to side, Bellatrix smiling happily once she saw her locked up like this, unable to escape no matter how hard she tried to budge.

Which, truth be told, wasn’t altogether very much effort on her part. The whole, _ ‘Changed and twisted into a new shape while not having even a sip of water or meal to eat,’ _ weighing her muscles down until she was soft and inflexible, fully _ there _ but unusable for want of energy. Of course the precious few moments that she did think about her growling stomach ended up making her nauseous beyond belief when the thought of what she was expected to eat passed on through her brain. 

_ ‘Not thinking about that, _ ** _not_ ** _ thinking about that,’ _ she repeated through her mind, worries and confusion all pushed off to the side in service of fear towards the results of Bellatrix’s ritual.

Her body lay there in its induced lethargy while Bellatrix moved and wandered around her, back and forth as she rechecked all the runes and ensured again that everything was right. Soon enough she was standing before Hermione’s gaze with practiced fingers unlacing bits and pieces of her grab in a well managed fashion. The corset was the first piece to fall away, and Hermione watched with wide eyes as the witch breathed a sigh of relief, the dress the next to fall as it shifted off her shoulders.

_ ‘Merlin’s bloody-’ _

The dress pooled about her feet, underclothes joining them seconds later, long limbs stepping out as she stretched naked under the cool, still air. Hermione had held absolutely no intentions of getting an eyeful of the witch, but locked into place as she was, there wasn’t really any way for her to help it. And really, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t appreciate the view.

Aesthetically, of course. Surely nothing more than that.

Bellatrix’s skin was a stretch of cream beauty all pale and ethereal except for the few spots where capillaries and thin veins rose up beneath the surface, marble chiseled and given form. All along the smooth expanses were pits and scars where two wars and over a decade of imprisonment had managed to make their mark; all healed up cuts and blasted bits of skin that had been stitched back together with battlefield tuned healing spells that left twisted scar tissue and melted blankness in their wake.

Still the sight left Hermione in a position where she couldn’t help but notice and fret over the increased fervency of her heartbeat, nor could she ignore the hardened peaks far darker than the rest of Bellatrix’s skin. The curve of hips and muscles that were just barely beneath the surface, her twists and the way that her black curls lay down across her shoulders and her back. The portion of Hermione’s mind that was still given over to her humanity was at the same moment balking in meek prudishness and a suddenly inflamed desire that she couldn’t trace the root of.

The woman _ was _ beautiful; if only in a way that stated she was anything but soft and demure, that she was nothing at all but a battle hardened warrior with the scars and brawn to prove it. Hermione swallowed (as much as she could in this half paralyzed state), while hoping that whatever this feverish intensity was, that it would fade away far sooner than the length of time it had taken to afflict her.

Her wish _ was _ granted; in a roundabout sort of way.

Bellatrix slowly kneeled down before her after tossing her garments off towards the door and pulled a dagger (**_the_** _dagger,_ _the dagger that had slit her fucking arm_) from a cloud of black smoke that she forced to coalesce above her upturned right hand.

“This won’t hurt you Cass,” the woman spoke down to her as she raised her remaining free hand up before herself, limb shaking and trembling as she spoke. “But then again it might. Never did end up finishing this rite all the way through, and none of my research focused on what happened to snakes during it.”

_ ‘Oh gods-’ _

“Let’s find out then, shall we?”

:**_No, no, no-_**: Hermione’s hissed words went unheeded and unheard, the language barrier and attention pulling Bellatrix away as she sliced the length of her skin from wrist to her middle finger in a single smooth motion. Blood welled up and over the cut, spilling and dropping off the slight angle until it spattered both the ground and Hermione’s head. Bellatrix began to chant the moment that blood first touched the ground, her voice a husky whisper amid the swirling rush of air that kicked up all around them.

Terror gripped her heart as she tried moving to escape yet again, and once more found herself unmoving. Her body was stuck, her heart racing madly, all the glyphs and runes surrounding her taking on a pale orange glow that shook and vibrated as the intensity of the ritual continued to build. Bellatrix closed her grip to wring blood all along the length of Hermione’s body until red had patterned her scales, slicked up the air with iron, her entire core heating and pulsing as some wild magic drew itself upwards through the marble floor to empower the ancient spell.

A second passed before Bellatrix wrenched her hand backwards, the words of her spell speeding up and rising in tone and volume until the air itself was twisting in a menagerie of colors. Violet, evergreen, aquamarine and tarnished gold; magic coalesced on winds born from its own power to film and blanket them both. A thin line of green the color of Harry’s once piercing eyes began to take shape in the center of Bellatrix’s chest, the ritual urging it onwards as it fed on eddy currents of magic. Bit by bit it reached forward from her heart until it made actual contact with Hermione’s new snout at just the same time as the winds surrounding them reached a crescendo.

Something _ snapped _ all around and through the edges of her mind, something that crinkled and pulled before throwing itself all about; her memories and feelings and thoughts _ and conscience and _ ** _being_ ** all switching-

Hermione’s eyes (or rather pupils) opened up after a length of time that she couldn’t parse, her throat and jaw sore, body exhausted and panting as energy fled her core. Bellatrix looked to be in about the same position; her face a mixture of pain and relaxed pleasure that spoke to exhaustion more than excitement. That magic (so wild and unruly, untamed and uncontrolled) had done _ something _ to them both. The dark witch fell forward until she was lying on her side, a finger lazily tracing the air until it could twist and lay upon Hermione’s back.

She could _ feel _ the Dark Witch after they made contact, feel the way her naked body ground down into uneven marble below her, her thoughts, emotions, even her very core laid bare for Hermione to peruse. She could see it all, feel it all, she could even taste the sharpness of Bellatrix’s rage, understand the comfort of her happiness. Hell, she could even parse and sort through the worryingly broken set of emotions she had brought together into a striking adoration for her loved ones and her Master.

It took her seconds to determine that Bellatrix was healthy, if a bit exhausted, the new flood of magic sending her information that she sorted through with a surprising speed aided by her new, lesser instincts. The witch was cold, her body shivering with uncomfortableness in this dank room beneath the cellar, eyes focused only on Cassi-_ Hermione, _ as much as she could in the dim light that now remained. Hermione could also feel a sense of safety and protectiveness wash over her in thick waves so strong that it was all she could do to keep herself from drowning.

It didn’t end though, it wouldn’t abate, and if anything at all it only seemed to grow in strength before looping back in on itself. The small portion of Hermione’s brain that was given over to reptile instinct and function was now eagerly lapping up the attention and adoration that flooded her from Bellatrix’s growing bond. Hermione felt that she was overflowing, running up the edges of her skin as if she was being tightened down all over, her head squeezed off through a tube and long limbless body rolled apart like a sausage from its skin.

She _ shimmered, _ she swore that it had happened, her eyes peering out across her face as her snout began to ripple and shimmer. Feeling came back to the disparate portions of her limbs, _ her arms reaching out, feet kicking free- _

And then it was gone.


	6. Waking World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chap

Disorientation struck Bellatrix within the first few seconds of her awakening. It was clear the Ritual had been completed before she passed out, the slightly worrying amount of blood and serpent asleep before her face was tantamount to that, but beyond it all was just a haze of blankness tinged with pain.

Pain which, unfortunately, was still spilling out from the cut along her palm. The delicate edges of her wound were ragged, their boundaries only barely holding back the slowly leaking blood and pain that burned downwards into the meat of her hand. 

Bellatrix stirred from her laid out form, limbs heavy and muscles burning with exertion, all to reach out and slowly grab up the wand laid atop her clothing. A muttered healing spell (she was never one to do them wordlessly, healing was always her sisters domain), three seconds of waiting, and soon enough the slice was nothing more than a striking scar of silvered skin and lessened sensation. She observed the coloration beneath the faint light of the room, marveling at the light that spilled and scattered out across it when she twisted it this way or another.

Her attention slowly drifted back towards the serpent lying still at her feet; Cassiopeia looking to all the world to be asleep, contentedly breathing without a single care in the world despite all the dried blood her scales were hidden by. Bellatrix dropped to one knee to lift the snake into her lap, the reptile still unmoving as she did so. Her wand wove a silken pattern atop the length of the serpent until the modified _ Scourgify _ had a moment to sink in and work, scales all scrubbed gently to reveal their patterning as blood was vanished away.

The cleaning (or stripping, Bellatrix wasn’t exactly clear on what to call it,) left a… _ peculiarity, _ when it was done.

Her eyes widened and breath caught in her throat, body hauling upwards as she moved to hold Cassiopeia beneath the filtered light of a brasier beside the entrance to the room. Her eyes marveled at the patterns, shifting scales and flicking light revealing change; golden stretches of overlapping scale giving way to silver mercury, a nail stretched out to follow along as row after row changed before her very eyes. Golden one moment, silver the next. Red one second, green the next. Even the interweaving yellow atop her spine was getting in on the action, lengths turning a distinctly Slytherin combination of green and black.

She peered down at the snake, confusion between her knitted brows, “How odd.”

\---

Hermione’s brain was lulled to gentle wakefulness by a soothing pressure wrapped up all along her body, and the shimmering warmth of a fire that she could hear and smell as it crackled and burned just in front of her. As she breached that period of waking where the world was still strange and unreadable, she found herself wondering why she was so close to the burning wood. Surely with a heat this high she wasn’t in her cot; likely she had fallen, she assumed, body dropping onto the ground where Harry or maybe Ron had shifted her into a more comfortable position. The wrapped up portions of her torso led her to believe that someone had draped her with a blanket or two (her parents had always claimed she enjoyed wrapping herself up into a comfortable little burrito of a child), the barest form of defense against the preternatural chill of the Forest they had shifted to; snow all along the ground and chills invading even their magic-shrouded tent. 

She shifted backwards and forwards in her bonds, digging herself further as she snuggled against the pressure wrapped up around her. Yes, this was perfect. She was sure that she had only had a rambunctious night of sleep, tossing and turning until everything had wrapped up all around her. It figured though; the boys would of course choose to drape her in one of their scratchy wool blankets from their own bed, probably right before stealing her own. She yawned, ready to give them a talking to about stealing her things, body straining but only making minute headway against the heavy item.

She pushed herself again; arms bound up along with her legs, straining slightly in annoyance when the material refused to budge, her torso twisting all around as she pushed-

_ The blanket pushed back. _

Hermione’s brain shot forward into the realm of full wakefulness with all the grace and form of a bird scared into flight; her pupils both dilated as light shot in to illuminate her position. She twisted, struggled, pulled and fought until she remembered (unfortunately, and with a seething hatred that she was sure she had never felt before,) that she no longer _ had _ any arms with which to push herself up, nor a pair of legs with which to kick herself out of this position. She rolled and struggled until scale slipped on scale, her length slowly moving forward as she extricated herself from the cloying bonds of another and off on her own to see what had been holding her down.

Two sharpened orbs of yellow glass peered down at her from a massive head that sat perched upon a loop of patterned coils; a long tongue flicking outwards to bat against Hermione’s open face as she stared in disbelief.

:**_N-Nagini,_**: her words hissed out through a stutter of breath, heartbeat shooting upwards until it thudded painfully within her chest. She swallowed, dryly, and nearly choked for her efforts.

The serpent leaned in further until their snouts were almost touching, Hermione’s breath stilled in her throat as she waited to either be attacked, or, or… Well, she wasn’t quite sure what would happen.

To her surprise Nagini released a quietly hissed chuckle before turning away to face the fireplace once again; her bulk twisting and shifting as she basked beneath the warmth pouring out. She left Hermione there, voice quiet and mind confused, wondering at the serpent’s disregard more than she was worried about her actions.

The silence dragged onwards until something shored up within her mind and a hiss spilled out, :**_Um, Nagini?_**: Nagini continued to look elsewhere, either ignoring her or sleeping, :**_Nagini, how did I end up here… with you?_**:

Once again only silence answered her words, nothing at all but the popping of wood and whooshing sound as air pulled itself up the chimney, a hollow ringing noise meeting her (rather hidden) ears. She shifted in place as unease boiled out from her chest, tongue flickering in and out with a rapidity she couldn’t control.

:**_Fine then,_**: Hermione finally huffed out, :**_Do you know where I can find some water? I don’t suppose I’d be able to work a tap like… well, like this._**:

She turned to look around the sitting area, a small room not dissimilar to the one that Bellatrix had tortured her in, only this particular room was far and away more comfortable than that one. Her twisting and curling continued until a color out of sorts caught the corner of Hermione’s vision; a twinned stripe of black and silver where she had curled in over herself. She continued moving, continued shifting, looping coils - _ Was I always this long? _\- building over themselves before she realized what had happened.

The reds, golds, and creamy white of her scales had shifted and darkened as though marked through with rust and dirt. She spent some moments in quiet observation before coming to the unsettling conclusion that she looked as if she was a miniature form of Nagini; her scales were far brighter than the larger serpent but it was clear where her patterns came from, four shades all dominating every centimeter of her body. 

It was an oddity, but one she oddly enough could only observe as something somewhat beautiful if devastatingly startling; the instincts and the _ Other _ riding along in the recesses of her mind hissing its approval.

:**_What the Hell happened to me!_**: Her hiss was confused, and loud, her startled mind momentarily forgetting the presence sat behind her.

The sound of coils shifting, muscle turning, scales sliding against one another came with a crackling hiss more like laughter than anything else. The body sidled up beside her before leaning up and over the top of her length, languid and heavy in a manner that left air fleeing her lungs and a startled ** _:Hey!_**: following with it.

Nagini made no move to hurt her, however, and if anything it seemed she was peering down at Hermione’s patterns and colors with as much scrutiny as she had given herself. :**_Oh you’ll be a pretty one,_**: Nagini hissed, nudging her gently with her massive head until Hermione was forced to look away, :**_You’ll be even prettier when you’re all grown Little One._**:

Bewilderment colored Hermione’s eyes with something that Nagini must have seen, her bulk pulling backwards as inside Hermione gave a resounding _ ‘No!’ _

:**_For your information, I have absolutely NO desire to grow older in this body, I just want my old one back!_**:

:**_But you don’t have your old body Tree-Girl, you’re a snake, not a Human anymore. Get used to it, there’s likely no way to turn you back. Besides,_**: Nagini twisted off and away until she was positioned before the fire yet again, :**_There’s lots of parts to being a serpent that you can make use of. Enjoy, even._**:

Fury sparked into an inferno within the confines of Hermione’s chest, the insinuation that she merely shut up and deal with this change, this abomination, sitting horridly within her mind. 

She snapped out an angered hiss, :**_But I don’t want to enjoy this! Sure, for you it might be fine, but you haven’t gone through this! You weren’t turned into a-_**:

The sentence filled with anger never ended up completed, words tossed aside by fright when Nagini rose up and whipped around. Her maw was opened wide with hooked teeth on display, a hiss curling and beating with displeasure out of her throat, body poised to strike. :**_Do not presume that you would know me!_**: Her hiss was a scream, a cacophony of sound, :**_Do not presume to know what others have lost, you impudent little child!_**:

Hermione balled herself up out of fear of Nagini, her coils shifting and pulling away as the larger snake barreled on past her with as much speed as she could muster across hardwood and carpeted floors. 

Hermione sat there, uncertain, body coiled and cowering as she shivered in confused fear.

\---

Bellatrix felt the pull of fear upon her heart before she realized what it was, an odd stir of cowardice and frightened murmurings between her ribcage that left her looking about in confusion and surprise until the answer revealed itself with a flickering tongue and undulating movement. 

“Cassiopeia?” She kneeled to grab up the serpent as she approached, her hands deftly moving her onto the curve of her shoulders. Cass immediately moved higher until she was curled tightly around her neck, quiet hisses and a flickering tongue tickling against the shell of her ear. Bellatrix ran her hand down the loop of a snake, “So that’s a part of our Bond, eh? Hmm, I bet you’re glad about that now, hmm, little Cass?”

The snake (being that she was a snake, and not a person,) didn’t reply at all except for a tightening of her muscles around Bellatrix’s throat, her tail swishing side to side in a manner that brought a tickle to her collarbone and pulled a very un-Death Eater giggle past her lips. That was… odd, but not unusual, she supposed. She had known after all that this bond could help to rejuvenate someone, pull their mind from dark places, breathe new life into their bones. But even with that foreknowledge she hadn’t predicted the levity that now filled her, especially with the bond indicating Cassiopeia was now far more relaxed, no longer scared as she had been.

She felt like she was _ young _ again; like she had woken up refreshed for the very first time in eighteen long years. The ever present ache in her bones had dissipated, the pounding headache she had suffered with since her Sixth Year had faded away into nothingness, even the bruises and muscle aches that she had been suffering through since the First War were wiped clean, her body deciding to redirect itself towards healing what had once been broken. It was magic, pure and simple.

_ True _ magic; through and through.

Still though, it wasn’t a cure all or a magic ambrosia that solved everything. The heartburn raging against her esophagus was still present, the pain of scars and distant battles still placed atop her chest. But it was an improvement she could rank as life changing; so much so that even Narcissa had noticed the lift in her mood.

Her blue eyes had always seen further than the surface, and with this it was just the same.

“What’s wrong,” her sister asked, her face pinched up as she strode into the room to find Bellatrix standing in the center with a piece of parchment in one hand and the other stroking lovingly against Cassiopeia’s spine.

“Hmm?” Bellatrix turned, noticed her sour expression, and caught onto her meaning right away. “Oh, I’m fine. Physically, at least. Otherwise? Pissed, here,” she passed Narcissa the long parchment. “Grimmauld is gone, yet again. It seems someone must have set up a new Fidelius.” 

Of course someone would run to do that; even if they had known where it was once Dumbledore died, it still remained open due to their lack of approach. The task had been set out for later, after the War was won, Severus’ warnings about traps and wards being too great to ignore. It wasn’t important that she go after it; with Sirius dead she was Heir through and through, no need to petition or stand herself in front of another. Even if he had labeled the Boy as Heir in his stead, there had been no blood adoption and thus no way for the Old Magics to take hold. In his death it was to sit as an empty home, alone and abandoned.

But now someone was within it, had sealed it all up again, and once more her birthright was stolen from her grasp.

Narcissa nodded as she read, “And Sev thinks it's one of the Weasels?”

Bellatrix dropped down into a waiting armchair, “Well, them or maybe the Mudblood. He’s not sure, and we won’t be finding out anytime soon. I doubt whoever’s there will be inviting us for tea.”

“But it _ is _ a Black property.” Narcissa took a spot opposite to her, “Surely there has to be another way in? Fidelius prevents you from knowing the location, you can still happen upon it.”

Bellatrix nodded, moving her arms as Cassiopeia perked up, her long body - _ Is she longer than before? _\- curling up into a pile atop her lap, “That’s what I’m thinking. A second entrance, one not hid by the Fidelius. I could find it, if it exists. That’s the question for now.”

“So, you’ll be off to the Library then?”

“Yes,” Bellatrix smiled down at the serpent staring up at her from her lap, a tingle of expectation and excitement flooding her with an odd pattern. “The Library.”


	7. The Majesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda Edited  
A little  


There was a moment of time - _ a second or a minute, infinitely stretched _ \- where the soothing rock of Bellatrix’s gait managed to lull Hermione into somewhat of a slumber, or another torpedinous state. Back and forth, side to side, calming in a way it hadn’t been before. Bellatrix was, if anything, insistent on keeping her alive. Comfort seemed to be a part of that, regardless of Hermione’s relatively frazzled state and heartfelt desire to _not _remain bound to the witch.

Not that she could do anything about that at the moment. The Ritual was complete, and whatever bond they had would stay until she discovered a way to subvert it or break it entirely.

All that to say her decision for the moment was to enjoy the ride and rest herself after the frightful display that Nagini had shocked her with.

Or at least it had been, up until Bellatrix threw open the doors to a space that seemed to rival the size - _ if not exactly the majesty _ \- of the Hogwarts Library. The ceiling above her head turned vaulted to a point; handcrafted paintings all still and in repose to show off battles and ages past, filigree giving the whole of it a _ shine _that seemed to reflect back down upon them. The scenes were living, frightful even, lances and spears and wands all born as weapons by Knights of gleaming plate that battered one another. Beautiful, all of it, even if the depth of the room prevented her from seeing the whole scene.

Before them stood aisle after aisle of dark mahogany or ebony shelving, the heights only barely constrained by the ceiling up above. The spaces in between were large and open, most likely to allow multiple wanderers at once, with little sliding ladders attached at the beginning of every one. Hermione could _feel _her slowly beating heart tick up pace by pace, rocketing into use as she whipped around to view it all. Bellatrix, for her part, remained content to let her shift and slither side to side across her shoulders with head peeking out between bundles of black curls and long tongue teasing very un-Death Eater like giggles from her throat.

Was she making a fool of herself? Maybe.

Did she care? 

_ ‘So many books!’ _

No.

Bellatrix made a beeline for an aisle off towards their left that smelled of smoke and the mildewed scent of old books and pages long spent closed. Hermione’s tongue practically danced upon the air as she took in all the myriad new scents, so familiar in many ways yet so much _different _now that she had acquired a brand-new method of understanding them.

Ash was heat and warm and acrid, yet so very comforting and blanketing. It tasted _dark, _ it tasted _rich, _ it tasted like nothing she had ever known before, even sitting at the base of the fire in the other room. This space, this Library, seemed to hold it all inside, recirculating and building until it was strong enough to overpower all the rest. Beneath it she tasted hints of old paper long yellowed with age, bitter and divisive yet comforting all the same.

It was all familiar, but so very, very different.

Bellatrix stopped herself before a long aisle that proceeded lengthwise down the room, hand coming up to tap fingers against her chin as she turned in place while searching for whatever it is she wanted. Hermione curled closer around the warmth of her neck, pulse beating out to drive warmth beneath her scales until Bellatrix noticed the near crush she was attempting and lay a palm around the bulk of her midsection.

Bellatrix hummed and cleared her throat, “Well I suppose there’s nothing for it but to look. The Malfoy’s detest using magic within the room, so I suppose it’s Mundane from here out.”

Bellatrix took off at a brisk pace that left images of titles and script she could not read as flowing colours and shapes, the hand upon Hermione’s scales a reassuring weight that kept her locked down into place. Hermione wouldn’t be one to say the sensation felt unpleasant in any manner, but it _was _unusual. New, really.

Strangely soothing, as well?

Or comforting, at the least. 

Whatever the realities of the sensations were, Hermione lost herself to the whims and indecision of the woman supporting her. Best she not think too hard, especially with the way that Bellatrix would stop, start, and then sprint off at a faster pace that left her empty stomach lurching in response.

Snakes, and by extension _she, _ were not meant to travel as fast as this.

Back and forth they moved as heat poured into her blood, the repetitive action and comforting grip relaxing Hermione into a near sleep, up until Bellatrix finally stopped. She had, apparently, made a final decision on what she was looking for, or at least come to an idea of where she could find it. No longer were they sprinting, now the pace was lazy and slack. Her wandering was even-keeled and filled with soft humming in a tune more pleasant than Hermione had been expecting, the husky rumble even more of a soothing balm than she had expected.

Slowly, bit by bit, they travelled the length of an aisle and down towards where it ended with a large fireplace and magnificent mantle topped further by books left freestanding by readers long past. The length of the space was much deeper than it was wide, and Hermione held more than one suspicion that it had, over however long it had existed, been expanded and driven further through the bounds of more a more mundane reality.

She was sure, in short, that if she could plot the distance they travelled, she would have found herself far outside the boundaries of the Manor. When last they reached the end she could see to either side an emptied space that remained interrupted only by more fireplaces, a few overstuffed chairs, ottomans and ageing end tables for one to place a drink or book. The wall that held the fireplaces was curved into a half-moon, providing spaces in between that one could mingle or stand, or perhaps converse with other guests.

Not that Hermione believed the Malfoys to entertain guests very often, unless the purpose of their visitation was torture, or plotting the downfall of Wizarding Britain.

The chairs were fluffed with padding that looked to provide ample seating for hours spent reading, and the magnificent heat that roared from the fires called to Hermione in a way they’d never done so before. No time existed for her to wonder though, as Bellatrix tapped her heels, tutted twice, and headed towards a seat.

The hand upon Hermione’s bulk squeezed down slightly in preparation for _something, _ the move itself startling her so much that in reflex a hissing noise quite similar to Nagini flowed out from her throat. Automatic, yes, and startling to Hermione, but only managing to elicit a tutting _ ‘No,’ _ from Bellatrix. The older woman withdrew Hermione from her perch, let long tongue lash against her fingers, and giggled airily before placing a finger upon Hermione’s nose in a rather frustratingly annoying move. It was cutesy, far too much for Hermione to want to deal with.

So she nipped that finger-

-or attempted to do so, as Bellatrix pulled back before she even had a taste.

“Oh Cass,” Bellatrix whispered as she deposited Hermione atop the cushions of the chair, her tone light and words followed up by tinkling laughter. It was so far from the maddened cackle that Cas- _ Hermione _was used to, so different from the madwoman she had always seemed to be.

What was the act? Madness? Or sanity?

To throw oil upon the fire of Hermione’s confusion and general instability, the sound managed to leave her - _ oddly enough _ \- pleased.

_ Happy. _Buoyed by the levity of Bellatrix’s mood in a way that seemed to radiate from her, only to be caught and dragged within the confines of Hermione’s scales and mind.

Was this bleed-off a result of the Ritual? It was, Hermione knew, the most likely reason. Surely she wasn’t empathizing with her captor, nor finding any levity in her own situation. An investigation would need to be conducted. 

Later though, after Bellatrix finished speaking.

“This, my dear Cass, is Malfoy Library,” Bellatrix spoke, waving her arms about in mock presentation. “A lovely little space, even if it _is _on the small side. Can’t trust the French for anything it seems, even when it comes to reading.”

Hermione nodded, or rather swayed, as Bellatrix peered down at where she lay. Soon enough their eyes connected, a smile brightening Bellatrix’s face as unpleasant chills worked their way into Hermione’s length. Slowly, so as not to give the impression that she was running, Hermione uncoiled herself from the lump she had been deposited into and off towards a leg of the chair. Her tongue flickered as she moved, Bellatrix remaining still and quiet as she looked to see what Hermione would do, length slowly dropping until she lay flat upon the tiled floor. She peered around to catalogue and absorb all that she could see when Bellatrix finally approved of where she lay, head rocking side to side in an effort to peer around herself.

“From what I’ve been told by Cissa, it contains all the collected works of the Malfoy Estate, even those that were originally housed over in France. Since their marriage, it also contains all those works that weren’t gutted during the fire that levelled my ancestral home,” Bellatrix lectured her, stepping carefully over-top of where Hermione lay. “Sirius will likely have everything else hidden up in Grimmauld Place, but unfortunately I lack access. _ For now, _ at least. Hopefully all of the collection remains, he had to have known what sort of knowledge he had on his shelves. There were so many priceless grimoires moved over to that home, collections that my family worked to obtain over _centuries. _ Many of them were works that have now been banned, or so long out of print that they may well have never even existed. If it’s not all there I’ll have to resurrect his mangy arse just to hex him back to the grave.”

Bellatrix’s words trailed off, her face screwed up into a pout, “It should have all been mine…”

Did Bellatrix actually care about the works that had been locked away from her? Or was she only feeling low for the fact that she had been denied them in the first place?

:**_It doesn’t matter. Anything that could have been dark is already gone, Grimmauld’s been clipped._**: Hermione spoke in her new tongue with no expectation of a response, :**_Molly Weasley certainly saw to all that._**:

A pang of sorrowful regret tinged Hermione’s mind when she admitted, to herself alone, that she _had _helped. 

She had burned books for the crime of dark ink printed upon them, an action that a younger form of herself would have never once agreed to. Yes, her complicity in the situation might have been begrudging at best, but still she had helped to separate piles and heaps of them into _ Light _or _ Dark. _ She had used a banishing spell to relegate them to dust, leaving not a single trace that they had once existed. It _had _all been done in the explicit interest of the group, a safety measure meant to secure them from harm.

Surely it wasn’t _safe _to leave cursed tomes upon shelves that they all had access to, in a space meant to facilitate learning and leisure.

But the action had still managed to irk some inner portion of her mind into a guilt trip and frowns whenever she thought back on it. Much like now, she supposed.

“But enough of all that,” Bellatrix spoke up with false cheer, her arms spread wide and body twirling about in a circle as she did so, _ “We _have each and every Head Journal. Do you know what that is, Cass? Hmm, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Hermione hissed lowly at the insinuation when it prodded against her heritage and form.

:**_I might not, but it’s-_**:

Bellatrix began to speak again, interrupting Hermione’s hiss, “We were all prepared at least _somewhat _for any disasters. Those journals have so many charms and protections that it wouldn’t surprise me if they last a few millennia. Now, little Cass, if you’ll take a look on down this row, you’ll find each and every Journal that our Head of House have penned, ever since the beginning of the institution. Their _intentions _were to use these Journals as a record of the past, so as to better inform their descendants. Best let the younger generations learn from their mistakes, eh? However, some of the more, shall we say, _ recent, _ Heads were a little bit less invested in the family’s future. Most of their works contain musings, or instructions bending towards their own wishes.”

Bellatrix’s movements gained fervour, ferociousness and _energy _that seemed set to leak and wreathe about her. She stepped close to where Hermione lay - _ Am I longer, again? _ \- with a swiftness that led her to duck her head and hiss out with displeased tones and notes of surprise.

_ Gods the woman could _ **_move_ ** _when she wanted to! _

“Now then,” Bellatrix hauled her up and back to a spot across her shoulders, “If I’m lucky, I’ll find Phineas’ Journal. If I’m not, we’ll find his son’s. Come along now Cass, we’ve a heist to plot.”


	8. Comfort in this Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey  
this lives  
mild-edit  
Going to rewrite the prior chapters, the horrid grammar is killing me.

Their bond - _ struggling to assert itself over years of difference and change, a soul not meant but twisted to fit what it had become _ \- was strongest at night.

The space between them was bridged during rest, a road built up as they fell into the depths of slumber and well maintained until they could flow as one. Hermione knew those things and yet had never felt them. Crookshanks came too late for her to bond and the potentially dark-aligned ritual had turned her off the subject almost entirely.

But here she was, dealing with it regardless of her feelings on the matter. 

Feelings which were changing as she slumbered, pupils drawn to such a slit that nothing could get through. Fleeting images passed their minds; bursts of power tinged with pain were mingling with remembrances of Crucio, of lightning that ran down their back, their scales, a scream wrenched into a hiss. There were happy memories as well, memories that were short, old, _ present. _ They were more the impression of happiness but it was there and spreading between them. They spoke of love, of something not quite like it. 

The dreams spoke of a woman that Hermione dreaded coming to know, and upon awakening she was hard-pressed to believe it had happened at all. Maybe it was her own mind playing tricks, maybe they’d belonged to Bellatrix, or maybe she was simply losing her mind.

She suspected the last was most likely but the disorientation of awakening certainly made it hard to come to a true understanding.

Bellatrix had taken them around the Library for many hours but in the end she’d failed in finding Phineas’s journal, nor did she locate the journal that had belonged to his son. She’d ranted and raged but eventually sleep had come for them both - _ despite the fact that the woman had felt younger, rejuvenated and _**_alive_ **_for the first time in forever _ \- and with that the night had come to a close. Hermione found that the woman made a note of locking her doors with magic at night, for no matter how much or how hard she tugged at the handle with a loop of her body - _ despite being oddly purposed towards length and grasping strength Hermione had found that feeling so comfortable within this body that she was up to attempting an escape was enough to make her seethe _ \- she could not make it budge. Her burgeoning strength was useless here, and so sleep claimed her when the effort failed.

When Hermione awoke she moved to blink - _ or tried to at least, the reflexive movement of muscles that no longer existed pounding out her disorientation even further _ \- and waited on the still sleeping Bellatrix. She knew she couldn’t get out of the room on her own - _ the windows were well shut, likely charmed in place just the same as the door _ \- and instead she lay there.

Waiting.

And waiting.

_ And waiting. _

The monotony of staring at the door like she could will it to open with some bout of nascent wandless magic became a bore, after some time. In lieu of frustrating herself further, Hermione moved and slithered off towards the bedpost, looping wraps of her coils slowly allowing her to climb it. Mounting that ascent had been the easy part of her morning, navigating the silken covers and sheets was _not. _ Her scales all lost traction amid the pools of fabric and for a moment she found herself adrift with no forward motion, anxiety rising as she squirmed in place and wished for momentum.

The movement might not have gotten her anywhere quickly but it _did _have the unintended - _ yet welcome nonetheless _ \- side-effect of waking Bellatrix. The older woman roused slowly and with ponderous yawns, blinking and stretching until she managed to notice Hermione’s rather unmissable predicament.

“Oh, come here Cass.” she cooed, hands wrapping underneath of Hermione in a not-unpleasant fashion.

The grasping movement brought Hermione friction, traction that she could use. The anxiety began to die off as she pushed forward over Bellatrix’s arms and it wasn’t until she could feel the woman beneath _all _of her length - _ muted though it was, the hardened exterior of her new body delaying all sensation in a way that was quite _**_odd_ **_but not unwelcome _ \- that Hermione realized just how _cold _she was. Her body was yearning for heat, crying out for some source of it to soothe her scales and bring life into her flagging muscles. She paused after finding a perch on Bellatrix’s forearm - _ the Dark Mark staring up at her and flicking its tongue in her direction _ \- and yawned, her thin teeth on display - _ which Bellatrix saw and grinned at, something much like pride flowing over their little bond _ \- and tongue lapping to taste the air.

There was silence between them for a moment, Bellatrix taking to stroking a finger against the back of Hermione’s head and snout, scales tingling in a way that Hermione found - _ against her better judgement _ \- to be quite pleasant.

Bellatrix sighed and quickened the pace of her petting, “We’ve got a long day ahead of us, I think. I’ll probably leave you with Nagini for the most of it. I think that’s best. I’ll just be Apparating between here and Black Manor for most of the morning, I need to cross-reference some logs. Then I’ve got to deal with the name change, and whatever Rod’s family has left me. I can’t imagine that Gringotts will be happy to see me after that stunt the Mudblood pulled.”

Hermione hissed lightly beneath her breath, soft and angry, yet tempered by the feeling of Bellatrix’s continual ministrations.

“It won’t be much, I suppose. Rab’ll get the Manor for sure but I’ll get something out of it. Galleons would be fine but if he leaves me the artefacts instead I won’t complain. We’ll see.” Bellatrix quieted, her finger stilling until Hermione - _ again, against her better judgement _ \- hissed and nudged Bellatrix’s finger with the tip of her snout, prompting the witch to continue.

Being without the witch for the better part of the day was - _ insofar as Hermione had a choice in the matter _ \- fine. She would be free to wander all around the Manor in her absence and wherever she wanted to be it was likely Narcissa would not. Perhaps without either of them scooping her up every few minutes she would have a chance to escape. Of course, the _possibility _of escape brought up the next notion; she would have to know _where _to go once she’d accomplished it.

But she didn’t know where to go.

Malfoy Manor was as much of a geographical riddle to Hermione _now _as it had been when they were first captured some weeks ago. Everything else that had changed in her life since then was on course to make figuring that out even harder. She had no idea where she really was. It was somewhere cold, that much she was sure of. But the next second brought the thought that perhaps it was somewhere cold only because of magic. Either or, and neither helped her. Even if she _did _manage to escape, and even if she _did _know where to go, how could she do it? Would she be reduced to slithering all the way there?

:**_Fuck,_**: Hermione hissed, annoyed with her uncertainties and an acid hatred rising alongside it.

Bellatrix noticed the shift in her emotions and tapped her finger against Hermione’s snout, “You’re pretty revved about something, aren’t you? Angry, maybe? Feels like that at least.”

Angry? Bellatrix thought she was merely _angry? _ She was livid!

Hermione hissed with venom in the air, thrashing suddenly within the witch’s grip until - _ with a gasp of surprise _ \- she was dropped into Bellatrix’s lap. The sheets of silken finery bunched up all around, stifling any momentum she might have had. She was just Hermione, just a snake robbed of forward motion, just a serpent fearing for herself and _pissed _at the notion of no more _family, _ no more _friends, Harry now dead and gone, her parents both off somewhere far away, _ ** _no one looking for her and no one at all to care except the woman who had tortured her-_ **

“Cass!” Bellatrix reached down and yanked Hermione from the confines of the sheets, holding her still until Hermione broke free, hand under hand keeping her from falling back onto the bed. She watched with muted confusion as Hermione slowed her thrashing, ending up with her tail in her mouth and long chest heaving for breath. “Calm down, calm down. When was the last time that you ate? Come to think of it, have you even had any water since I found you?”

Hermione didn’t - _ couldn’t _ \- answer, twisted around the woman’s forearm instead and nipped - _ more tired with each bite, unable to keep up her energy _ \- ineffectually at the woman’s fingers. She’d not be strong enough to harm the witch until she was larger - _ and wasn’t she already longer than before? _ \- and the more that Bellatrix attended to her, the more she began to relax. Soft touches, cooing voice, warmth bleeding from the woman and into Hermione’s body.

The only issue with any of that was Hermione’s disinterest in being calmed. She didn’t _want _to be relaxed. She wanted to rage, unwind from the prison of her body and pummel the woman senseless. Instead, she was being held aloft while Bellatrix ran a hand down her left flank, soft fingertips prodding at scales and the ribs hidden beneath, her mind full of a worry that Hermione could _feel. _

To have the woman who had been nothing more than an aggressor - _ a torturer without remorse even a scant few weeks ago _ \- now wish for her to be healthy, happy and whole? It was all too much. Too much for Hermione to wrap her head - _ and coils _ \- around.

“Alright, come on then. First we’ll get you some water and then I’ll take you to Nagini. Loathe as I am to admit it, she’s a better carer for me in that regard. I’ve never much noticed what snakes eat, and Nagini is certainly not the one to measure up against.” Bellatrix rolled herself off of the bed and padded towards the - _ rather luxurious, Hermione would admit (if she were in any mood to complement the Malfoy family) _\- bathroom attached to her chambers.

The interior of the room spoke of opulent wealth; no expenses were spared in its construction, the countertops constructed from brilliantly white marble, black granite carving out a space for a dual shower and bath, veins of gold running all throughout it. The flooring was hardwood and old, so much so that Hermione could practically _taste _the age with her flickering tongue. The faucet for the sink was also quite magnificent, all bronze work done up with filigree and engravings that looked to be peacocks.

Bellatrix spared no time at all in twisting a lonely knob until water poured out, the plunger shoved down to fill the basin. The water level rose quickly and Hermione found herself released without much of a fuss, Bellatrix dropping her into the shallow - _ and comfortingly warm _ \- water before wandering off to complete her morning ablutions.

It took her more than a few minutes but eventually, thankfully, Hermione began to calm. Or rather she came as close to it as she could. The fit of pique that had absorbed her so only just minutes before was washing away under the slow lapping of water against her body. When it seemed she was to be left in peace she dipped her head low and experimented with drinking, new muscles tightening and jaw frighteningly pulling open as she did so. The water itself was fine as could be and the discomfort of a new biology passed quickly in the face of being sated. 

Hermione dipped herself beneath the surface once she’d filled herself with as much water as she could tolerate, nostrils positioned above the waterline but head submerged. She marvelled for a moment at the lack of any need to blink, always so used to shutting her eyes upon submersion in a lake or the sea. The feeling of calm, peace and contentedness flowed into her from her own satiation as well as Bellatrix’s. The older woman was completing her morning routine, practically skipping as she moved to shower, a smile on her face and warmth bleeding out across their bond.

Hermione took the time to think, and plan.

She knew that if she could find any books that could help her they would all be in the library, and likely she’d find something more about their bond. It would have to wait until Bellatrix had left and preferably she’d be allowed to peruse without Narcissa watching her. She might not be able to drag the books off of their shelves or flip their pages but she wondered if Nagini could, or if she could trick Bellatrix into reading it instead. Anything to get _anyone _who wasn’t Voldemort to understand her predicament would be useful, and the despondent attitude that had subsumed her upon learning what she’d become had started to dissipate, reformed as a burning desire to outsmart it as best she could.

There was also the matter of slaking her hunger. Thirst had been dealt with but the rumble in her stomach spoke to different needs, and she had no idea how to go about sating them. It was another thing to figure out then. She wondered for but a moment on how she might go about that and ended up settling on a simple enough plan of finding the kitchens. If she were lucky she could steal something from the Elves, or maybe pilfer a cupboard. She’d take what she could get, she knew that at least.

With her mind set upon a course of action Hermione settled herself deeper into the warmth of the water, body falling torpid for an unknown length of time. Eventually she stirred from gentle sleep as Bellatrix - _ now dressed in frills and lace, a dress all black and robes to match, beautiful despite the wicked soul wearing it _ \- approached her, lifted her gently from the basin and dried her with a simple Charm.

“All ready then? Alright, alright. I’ll drop you off with Nagini for the time being, then I’ll pop off. Might be back by supper but we’ll see. If not I’ll ensure you know, that good?” Bellatrix tapped her nose as she finished talking, a gentle - _ though Hermione had a hard time believing it was genuine _ \- smile across her face.

:**_No._**: she answered, soft and sibilant. She was too relaxed, too comforted beneath the weight of their bond to do anything other than consent to Bellatrix’s wishes.

\---

Nagini didn’t exactly seem to be pleased in her new role of a glorified babysitter. Hermione could tell the snake was agitated, the subtle twitching of her tail and the heavy breathing - _ chest puffing up, a stilted hiss escaping from her throat _ \- was more than enough of a sign and Bellatrix seemed to read it as well. Whether the issue lay with Hermione’s insult the prior day - _ even if she wasn’t exactly quite certain _**_how_ **_it had been insulting _ \- or with her simply being different - _ a former sworn enemy, now a prisoner in all but title _ \- wasn’t something she could tell. The massive serpent had listened to Bellatrix’s request and silenced herself for some minutes before replying, her long tongue slowly shaking in the air and expression turning stony and unreadable. 

Then she had nodded twice and let Bellatrix leave.

Now they were alone.

Now they were waiting for something to happen; Nagini staring off into the fireplace and Hermione not quite far away enough as to seem disrespectful but not quite close enough that she couldn’t turn and make a break for it if the serpent reacted negatively. She was ready for either or, body tense and tongue running along to its own beat.

But nothing was happening. Nothing was happening for _minutes. _ On and on, _ nothing. _

:**_Nagini?_**: Hermione - _ quietly and as respectfully as she could _ \- asked, feeling squarely like she was asking a teacher if she could leave to do something outside the classroom. :**_Would you mind if I left? I want to go and find something to eat._**:

Silence. Nothing except the snap and crackle of wood as it burned, turned to ash.

Hermione nodded to herself, more for reassurance than anything else, :**_Alright then. I’ll be off._**:

Hermione made to leave, but before she could make a break for it - _ freedom so very close! _ \- the serpent turned. Nagini pushed forward, looped around Hermione and parked herself in such a manner that there was nowhere for her to run.

_ And it had happened so fast! _

Hermione shivered, pulled herself into a ball. Loop after loop of her body creating a single mass of flesh that hid her snout and head, tongue poking between folds to taste the air for danger.

A second passed, and when the prophesied attack never came she poked her head from beneath of her coils and stared. Nagini was still before her, large head swaying and mouth slightly ajar, opening and closing while those sharp teeth of hers were visible. The snake tilted her head, peered in closer until Hermione felt so minuscule she might disappear from existence entirely.

:**_I’d like to apologize, Fire-Flinger. Tree-Girl._**:

That was entirely unexpected.

:**_For what?_**: Hermione unfolded herself, dared to meet the serpent head-on.

:**_For snapping at you. For frightening you. But in return I want you to apologize for burning me._**: Nagini continued the staring contest - _ quite hard to lose for the both of them, eyelids lacking _ \- but moved her snout close enough that she was bumping against Hermione’s. :**_The fire hurt me, though it could not kill me. We may have been enemies but we are enemies no longer. You lost, and grudges do us no good. If you turn out anything at all like me then you’ll live for long enough to understand that. You’ll have more than enough _ ** _ life _ ** _ to understand that._**:

Hermione’s first instinct was to deny Nagini’s wishes. She wanted to say she had no reason at all to apologize, and that would be the end of it. Gryffindor bravery wouldn’t let her back down from a fight _or _a slight. She couldn’t give up when she’d been the one in the right of things. 

But that wouldn’t work now, not with the _ Other _riding along in her head, the one that wanted to appease Nagini. It wasn’t happy that Hermione was so different from how she _should _have been. It was upset that this predator had their eyes on them, it was watching with barely concealed _terror _at that fact.

It chose cowardice and Hermione chose the easiest way out. It wouldn’t help her to have the only person - _ serpent _ \- that she could talk to as an enemy.

:**_Alright. I apologize for burning you. I’m sorry if it hurt you._**:

Nagini - _ oddly enough _ \- smiled. Hermione could somehow read the minute twitching of scales around her lips, the jaws pulled upwards in what could only be described as a reptilian grin.

:**_Good, good. Master calls me Little One but that fits you better. Now, Little One, let us go find you some prey._**:

Hermione mused for a moment - _ frozen in place _ \- and marvelled at how easy that was.

And then reality crept up on her.

:**_Find what?!_**:


	9. Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild-editing.  
Shorter chapter.

She knew things now just as she’d known things _then. _

She had known _things _before becoming what she was. She had known things in the interim, things that were different and yet still similar.

For instance; she knew a boy, once upon a time. A boy who was not what he had looked like, a body filled with rage and pain that was hidden underneath the placid veneer of a too-polite mask. She knew that some men - _ some wizards, some muggles, some that were in between _ \- were much darker than their magic or intent. They could use the light, use charm to fill a room with _warmth, _ all while still harbouring a cold chill that would have killed anyone that came too close.

She had known that she would become this, but the process of _becoming _was much worse than she could have ever imagined.

At first she could still control it. She could still _use _it, instead of being used _by _it. She could play with her parents, she could surprise them with the sight of a magical boa; their little child climbing trees as if she’d been born to it.

She supposed - _ in a rather dry way _ \- that she _had _been born to it.

But that was before, that was _at first. _ Then that _power _became a drawback. Became a pain. Became something that she could still initiate from time to time, but found herself - _ with shock, with anger _ \- hard-pressed to return from. Each shift brought with it a vast glitch in her awareness, the tautness of a human mind stretched thin across her willpower and her curse. It sought to smother her, blank out all reason until she was unable to return to herself.

Then it started happening without her input. She was shifting without _cause _or _reason. _ She awoke differently some mornings, would fall to the ground in the late evening, find herself with eyes wide open as the lovers she had held only minutes before were now screaming out in fear.

She had never truly known what a curse was until that moment. The spells these wizards unleashed were all labelled as such, but they were _actions. _ They were weapons. Things and tools that they would use to maim or kill. _ This _was a true curse, this swirling _thing _in her blood.

It was devoid of all reason. It lacked any cure. There was nothing and no one to save her from this, and the more that she fought it the more the inevitability of her situation rang clear.

Until one day it was too much.

Her mother carried the same affliction. Passed to daughters, never sons. She fell - _ and all the Gods must have laughed on that day, shamed them both for thinking they were in control of their own lives _ \- too hard, too fast. One moment her mother was there and present, aware of who and what she was. Her mother was tapping a sharpened nail across her chest, reminding her to keep tall when she next went to the market. To let no one look down on her no matter their size or sex.

The next moment her mother was lying on the ground, a massive serpent that bit and spat venom.

There was no recognition this time, though she’d had the feeling this was going to come sooner rather than later. There was no fleeting glimpse of humanity within that yellow gaze, just a serpent snapping and frightened. No mother there to stand tall, no mother there to call them both _human. _

Her mother bit her, even though the venom lacked any real danger.

Her mother slithered away, disappeared into the trees and never came back.

So she ran.

Sprinted away, terrified for her mind and her nascent - _ fading, disappearing further with every second _ \- sense of self. Her humanity. She ran because staring at the slowly retreating vision of what she was to become was _hard. _ It _would _happen, one way or another. She _would _lose herself and forget what it meant to be a person, forget what it was like to have hands or fingers or feelings that were stronger than the instincts of an animal.

She had been _herself _when she was younger. A different body perhaps but it had still been _her _mind driving the flesh. But that could never really last.

She’d been so very frightened that she’d run half a world away. It was - _ in the end, just as she’d predicted _ \- never far enough away. 

The travelling just made it all worse. Made living with her shame and her fear, the lack of true magic - _ magic outside of her curse, magic that could reshape the world around her in magnificent or minute ways, magic that _**_mattered_ ** \- that much worse, the shame haunting her in a way she’d never imagined. This wasn’t the land of her childhood and she’d never belong, would always be _different _.

Always so much like _them _and yet nowhere near close enough.

She was labelled as a freak, given a new name that was not her own. Turned over to the crowd so they could point and gawk, _ used _ all the while. 

Then she had met a young boy - _ a young man, and oh how she remembered him, fair and needing friendship, something and someone to call his own _ \- who seemed like her, someone who was raging at the injustice of their position. Someone who had a curse in their blood that they could not fully control, couldn’t escape.

But then he too was gone and her hours had grown short. Second by second, minute by minute, until eventually she’d disappeared into a land where no one would follow her. No one would look for her. No descendants to burden with her curse and no one to care or miss her when she was gone.

Disappeared into a forest far to the east, somewhere with food and shelter and nothing that could truly harm her except the weather.

But she hadn’t finished her stay in that land alone.

The beginning of her internment was harsh. Moments where she was human - _ and tall, and pretty, and lucid, and _**_knowing_ ** \- grew few and far between. Fleeting days turned into fleeting hours, and then minutes. Turned into seconds. Faculties returning so that she could understand what she was losing. 

She sank.

Fell low.

Wished to be beneath the surface of the ground instead of slithering atop of it.

She tried. Never completed her ambitions, never ended it. Just stared off the edge of a ravine, the placid water beneath her and heavy stones beside her.

She called herself a coward.

She called herself a monster.

And then she couldn’t call herself anything at all, her words stolen and a hiss all that now remained.

\---

Hermione was lost inside this new reality.

She had followed when Nagini left the room. The massive serpent seemed determined to go somewhere and flowed from space to space, no words exchanged between them even as the larger serpent would turn to keep a bright eye focused on her little charge. Hermione held to no illusions of escape, she could not run from her current keeper.

Nagini was quick, frighteningly so. The truce they’d brokered was only minutes old and Hermione found she had no interest in breaking it so early. She would do so on her terms alone, and do it when she could best reach out for freedom.

Which would be sometime soon, she was sure of it.

What she wasn’t quite sure of was the point of what they were doing, where they were going. Nagini was leading her somewhere - _ and it certainly wasn’t the kitchens, Hermione could taste them and they passed it with such speed that her little stomach had given a growl of anger _ \- fast and seemed to have no time for idle conversation. Instead she twisted, turned, finally parked them both before a door that Hermione was sure must open to the outside world. 

Hermione wasn’t tall enough to see, nor did she recognize this part of the Manor. But she could _taste _the world outside; the scent of grass, wood, and something vaguely exciting all coming across her tongue, a veritable palate of warmth that made her shiver in her scales.

Then - _ as if this was how she always worked her body _ \- Nagini had simply lifted herself up and turned the handle with a twist of her muscular body, the metal contraption opening under her weight and pulling backwards to reveal the magnificence of the outside world.

There was a short walkway leading out, carved from stone like plates that had been set down in imitation of a dragon’s armour. They were beaten down into the ground until level, an unlikely trail created where grass would have otherwise stood. There _was _grass - _ so much of it, so tall _ \- on either side of the impromptu path and Hermione found herself longing to take off into it - _ the Other in her mind now screaming for the security of high grass and a sure meal _ \- instead of following Nagini as she moved.

But she dutifully followed Nagini, clamping down on the instincts that threatened to overwhelm her.

Each centimetre forward was a nearly mind-fracturing assault of _new _sensations. All the moments that she had taken human touch and sensitivity for granted. All the times she’d put on gloves so she didn’t have to feel something or another.

Hermione swore she would have cursed her old self if she’d known that this would happen.

Touch was pushed to the back of her mind, a dreadful chill rising up her belly as scales scraped low against the stone. There was air out here as well, a stiff breeze that brought with it interesting scents and a taste she could only describe as _raw, _ an unfiltered form of nature. It was chilly against her body but not much, too overpowered by the wondrous shine of the sun from high above her. It was a pleasantry that Hermione hadn’t known existed.

But then the serpent turned left and Hermione could - _ for but a moment _ \- envision how this would go. Nagini would simply lose her in the tall grass and then Hermione could make her escape, slither off towards the treeline far to her right and disappear into the forest.

But Nagini seemed prescient in that instance and pinned Hermione with a stare when it became apparent that she wasn’t moving as fast as the older serpent wanted. She couldn’t get away, not yet. Instead Hermione bowed her head in a momentary show of shame and pushed forward to accompany Nagini at her side, the larger bulk cowing out submission from the smaller creature. 

:**_Here will be food,_**: Nagini told her, stilling and then rearing back to look out across the grounds. Hermione mimicked the serpent and rose unsteadily until she felt she could go no higher, Nagini looking pleased as she did so. :**_Little One can have little things, mice and vole and others. You should find one, eat. You have venom, I can taste it on you._**:

It took Hermione a moment to parse through what Nagini had said. It took another moment for the realization to fully sink in. She’d heard the serpent back in the Manor, had understood that Nagini wanted Hermione to find some prey. But _here? _ She wanted Hermione to eat a _ rodent? _

:**_You want _**_me _**_to do what?!_**: Hermione hissed out in disbelief, tongue lashing against the air as a show of obvious agitation.

Nagini rolled her head in obvious annoyance at being questioned, :**_I want you to hunt, to feed and eat. You need food, not always but you need food _**_now. _ ** _ You’re new, I’ll show you how to do it Little One, I’ll teach you what you need to know._**:

This was not at all what Hermione had expected, even if - _ truth be told _ \- she hadn’t expected much of anything. She knew that snakes needed to eat, understood it as a fact of life. She knew that they ate their meals and then took a period of time to digest them. She knew that snakes ate things like rodents, mice and other things, even snakes when they had the chance.

_ But she was not a snake. _

:**_No, absolutely not._**: Hermione hardened her response, stilled and raised herself up fully until her length had been twisted into some amalgamation that was not at all unlike when she would cross her arms and lecture Harry or Ronald on some particularly hare-brained scheme of theirs. 

But Nagini didn’t appear to care in the slightest that Hermione was so very adamant about refusing to hunt. Instead the serpent merely tapped her snout against Hermione’s and pushed her back, length darting off into the undergrowth.

Mildly terrified of being left behind and then thought of as having attempted an escape, Hermione followed.

When Nagini knew for sure that Hermione was following her she began to pass on whatever it was she had meant by _teaching. _ Thoughts about the size of prey, how to tell if it would be enough to sate her belly and yet not too large as to be impossible to eat. Notes on how to strike it quietly, quickly, how to ensure it had a relatively fast death and how to corral prey into doing what she wanted.

All the notes and all the knowledge for a subject that Hermione wasn’t interested in learning. She _wished _she didn’t need to know it but found herself absorbing it all nonetheless.

The little know-it-all child that she’d been wasn’t quite fully shed, it seemed.

\---

There came a time when what she was just simply wasn’t what she _was. _

The mind deep within her body had faded out into nothing but the vague impressions of memories. The serpent who ran things now could think when the mood overtook it but mostly it was just that, a serpent. It was smarter than the average snake and magical to boot, but it was a _ snake _first and foremost.

Then suddenly it was not _just _a snake, but the _impression _of a snake, a snake riding along with three passengers in its mind. Three separate minds instead of passengers. 

The snake held still and wondered what was wrong with it, what could have happened to leave it with two squabbling voices and one rising to the top, higher and higher until it could _hear _it clearly.

It made no sense, there was no one here. There were no true voices. No predators - _ or prey for that matter _ \- and yet _still _it could hear them talking. Voices that were strange and sibilant. 

And then it was no longer just a snake.

“What are you?” the third had asked, the newest of the group and harsher than the rest.

**“Maledictus.”** the second replied, tired and lacking in energy.

_ “Hungry,” _ hissed the serpent, its belly rumbling in the stillness of the forest.

And all were true.

It had a belly that _did _hurt. No prey had been acquired for quite some time and while the magical blood within its veins kept it alive and healthy it was _voracious. _ It had protection against the preternatural chill of winter - _ which would have otherwise killed any lesser serpent this high up _ \- but no protection against a need to consume.

The third voice spoke up again, this time to the first, the serpent, the creature with control. It noted a response - _ all angry hisses and nothing much else _ \- and then paid it no attention. Then it addressed the second one, and the serpent could tune them out.

They were talking, it could hunt. They could argue, it could continue to ignore that they existed. None of them would exist long - _ or so its baser instincts told it _ \- unless prey was found. 

So it paid them both no mind until _something _from the third managed to wrench away control of its body. Something that smelled of death, something that wanted _out, _ something that wanted to _use _her.

It won - _ because of course it would _ \- and locked them out.

Then it passed. It let the Other take control, the one who walked on legs instead of her belly. It spoke again, a voice as cold as winter despite the faintest note of _something _in its tone that approached the heated warmth of a summer sun.

** _“I’m so sorry,”_ ** the newest voice whispered, soft and forlorn, tinged with anger and venom. ** _“We will make them all pay.”_ **


	10. Settling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Edit

The day that Nagini found herself grafted with a portion of Voldemort’s soul was confusing, a long and winding moment stretched out between terror and agony.

She had not been the intended recipient, or at least she had not yet been prepared for it. She _should _have been prepared, brought back somewhere safer and given the prestige and ceremony according to a living Horcrux. She should have been guided into her new life, should have been filled with the flame of rebirth and walked upon two feet once more.

She should have been whole, new and sparkling beneath His majesty.

Instead, she had been left bleeding out on the floor by an errant curse - _ and damn her memory of the moment, no clue who exactly it was that had hit her, the pathetic Wormtail or the owner of their little hideaway _ \- that flayed a portion of her skin and left blood soaking into the carpeting. But then Pettigrew had run away and found Him a worthy sacrifice, someone important, someone who hadn’t been needed alive so much as she’d needed to die.

Nagini hadn’t found herself waiting long. He wouldn’t wait to lose her, he wouldn’t forget the promises he’d made. He wouldn’t forget the vengeance she was owed, the blood they both would share.

The blistering feeling of another soul wandering inside of her mind was too much for the portion of her that remained a snake. The Human fractions merged into one, wrestled for space within the interior until they’d coalesced as one being. Her Self, His Self, a muddled assemblage of memories and emotions. It was indescribably painful. Both the ritual and the healing were filled with fire and horror, a body nearly dead suddenly becoming almost indestructible. Her open wounds closed up, the cottage reverberated with her pained hissing, and then - _ before she could fall unconscious _ \- it was all done. 

She’d woken up next to the slowly cooling corpse of the woman He had killed for her, and upon examining the sorry state she was in - _ all while He profusely apologized, begged her forgiveness at this disservice to their plans _ \- she’d wanted nothing more than food. He let her have the corpse. 

He’d never have stopped her even if He didn’t want her doing it.

Nagini rose on that night more than herself, more than she’d been in years, decades. Though she was still locked inside the power of her curse there was no one riding along inside of her, no one to push her away and subsume her beneath animal instinct. That other mind was silent, the serpent asleep - _ while she was awake, He was awake, They were awake _ \- while she was given free rein to interact with the world.

Voldemort granted her a portion of His soul and with it, she became _more. _

\---

Hermione hated - _ vehemently, totally, with every portion of her mind and body _ \- the thing that she’d become. 

It was safe to say that the only thing she hated more than herself was the notion that she’d become _used to _this.

The poor thing within her midsection had been out for a meal that day, that afternoon when Nagini brought her outside and showed her just how deadly she could be. That poor thing had been starving or near close to it, nothing that was filled with life would have found itself trapped within her rather pitiful clutches. But she had been starving too and the idea of death as a way to escape this had floated in one ear and out the other. She would _not _fade away into nothing.

She couldn’t.

So far as she was aware she was the only one left to fight back. Harry was missing - _ and she refused for even a second to give in and believe that he had been killed, not without a corpse, not without _**_something_ **_to prove Voldemort right _ \- and Ronald had likely escaped, but he was also likely to be fearful for his family. He’d already lost so much and she knew he would tread carefully in order to avoid losing more. He was possibly injured, probably needed help, and the remainder of the Order - _ however many or few they were _ \- were likely licking their wounds in anticipation of rebuilding and starting the fight anew.

She _needed _to live, if only so that she could see this through to the end and prove to herself that she’d done all she could.

So she’d eaten that poor animal, looked at Nagini while she did so and let her know just how upset the act had made her.

But Nagini had just smirked in that odd way of hers and then congratulated her on a kill well made, long body held atop Hermione’s in some twisted form of - _ admittedly delectable, even if only to some portion of her mind far beneath the surface that was missing this sort of preening attention from someone who actually gave a damn _ \- parental embrace.

They’d finished up outside and then when Bellatrix finally returned later that evening Hermione had felt a proper _snap _to their bond. It was something quite like whiplash, an emotional discharge that immediately had Hermione slithering under the witch’s good mood.

Bellatrix’s mood was full of _elation, _ a warmth exuding from her mental bond that Hermione tried - _ and truly, she _**_did_ **_try _ \- to hate but found she could only enjoy. It took only a few minutes of following the manic woman around the Manor to understand just why she was so very, very happy.

“I’m free!” the witch declared, arms raised to the sky and power flowing from her fingertips, sparks of red and green dancing amidst unnatural sparks of lightning. Her robes were still covered in ash and dust, little specks of green sand falling from her boots and getting - _ rather annoyingly _ \- on Hermione’s scales.

Hermione fought to keep up with the witch - _ tired and lethargic as she was, the excitement had roused _**_some_ **_energy inside of her, and soon enough she couldn’t just sit around while Bellatrix danced to some drum only the witch could hear, Hermione’s tongue flickering in and out with repeated swiftness as her heartbeat began to accelerate _ \- and hissed in displeasure when the woman finally noticed where she was. Soft hands and a slowly crooning voice met her body at the same time as Bellatrix - _ gently, and with great care _ \- set Hermione to lying about her shoulders and neck.

Bellatrix tapped at her snout with a soft finger, “I’m free now Cass, free of the Lestrange family. It’s just dear ol’ Bella Black from here on out, me and all the galleons I could ever want. _ And I found the journal!” _

Hermione lay there atop Bellatrix and swayed, watching her movement while Bellatrix shifted her off, ran her hands underneath Hermione’s body. She kept Hermione steady, Hermione kept her eyes on Bellatrix, and soon enough she’d settled into some sort of euphoric stupor and blind lethargy that left her nipping Bellatrix’s fingers and flicking her tongue against the woman’s nose.

That had to stop.

Gently Hermione hissed at Bellatrix when she lay a finger against her snout, displeasure colouring her vocalization until the woman apologized and shifted her back onto her shoulders. Hermione would need to deal with this new positioning at some point, she was no longer the reed-thin snake that Bellatrix had found and the sudden spurt in growth was concerning, if not exactly a welcoming change. But ruminations on her weight and length could wait a moment more as Bellatrix passed by Nagini - _ the older serpent giving her a knowing grin and flicker of her tongue as they walked by _ \- and into a drawing-room.

The witch was excited, hair falling everywhere and body twirling, “There’s an entrance, I’m sure of it. Enough loose references about in the other journals to make note of _something _that might be an entrance but it appears none of the others ever used it. But _he _did. Don’t know exactly where it is but if I can find mention of it that means it’s beyond the boundaries of the Fidelius and _that _means that I can find a way in. Now, we’ll work it out soon enough, won’t we?”

At that, the witch pressed her nose against Hermione’s snout - _ which Hermione fought valiantly (and failed) against thinking of as _**_cute_ ** \- and giggled incessantly, her tone almost musical.

:**_Who are you?_**: Hermione asked, staring into Bellatrix’s eyes and wondering where the murderer had gone, where the torturer had run off to.

She wanted to disagree with Bellatrix’s assertion. She wanted to say no to the energetic tone of her voice, she wanted to solidify her emotions and pretend that this woman’s genuine _affection _for - _ what she believed to be _ \- a pet wasn’t real.

She couldn’t though. Bellatrix’s emotions were too high and the bond was too strong, and soon enough she found herself outright _enjoying _the sound. Her stomach was full, her body was heavy, and Bellatrix was exuding warmth wherever Hermione had a hold of her. This was more than enough to push Hermione past the point of overthinking it.

She gave in. 

It was _tiring _for her to be so upset all the time, and she might have hated this new life - _ this forced experience at the end of a dead man’s wand _ \- but she determined then and there to survive it. She would endure Bellatrix’s influence as long as she could, fall beneath her aura if she must, and she would latch onto _something _of a future.

She would push through this.

She would win her way out of this body if it was the last thing she ever managed to do, and - _ for now _ \- she would _enjoy _ Bellatrix simply petting her as if she were something normal.

For only a little while, of course. She couldn’t let Bellatrix think she actually _ liked _ this

\---

Five days managed to pass Hermione by in the blink of an eye. Or, if she were true to form, in a distinct lack of blinks.

She kept to her lonesome for as long as she could and avoided Bellatrix while she attempted to work out the cypher keeping the journal a secret - _ an unwelcome find she’d realized only after the first dozen or so pages, one that sent Bellatrix into a fit of madness that reminded Hermione far more of the woman she’d seen before _ \- and found herself things to do to pass the time. Days and nights were spent labouring to understand her body and come to terms with it while Bellatrix spent days and nights trying to unlock the journal. She kept to her room for the most part, filled her space with a little workshop table and magic that fell as a mist to the ground, her crooked wand giving pitiful croaks as it attempted to turn rune and glyph into plain English. The enchantments that laced its bindings were strong and nearly ancient, and the journal managed to give off smoke and fire more than it revealed any answers.

There was no real forward momentum after the elation of finding the damned thing, and Bellatrix was now irritable at that. Partly it was a pain to Hermione and partly it was a boon; the woman was now insufferable to be around but Hermione was otherwise left alone.

Her time was spent preening in Nagini’s presence and learning, looking at her shifting scales as they changed colouration yet again. Whereas before they’d been a mixture more defined they were now a subtle yet shifting mirage of silver and black. There was no real green except the darkest spots of the forest upon her spine, emerald dotting her left flank in some weird imitation of the words she’d been emblazoned with - _ thought they remained faint and unreadable no matter how she twisted or rearranged her coils _ \- and subtle flecks of black upon the white scales of her belly. She was grey, silver, darker smoke and true black. 

Nagini said she was beautiful and Hermione found herself hard-pressed to disagree.

Beyond that she noted she’d grown again in some weird growth-spurt, longer again by half and now Nagini wasn’t quite so massive, nor quite as imposing as she’d been. Hermione wondered _when _she would finish growing but, for now, she wouldn’t complain at the added inches.

She didn’t _hate _the added girth; being thicker with what appeared to be pure muscles made her feel _strong. _ She didn’t hate the added length; being longer meant she could reach things she hadn’t dreamt of before, and figuring out how to turn on the enchanted tub in Bellatrix’s bathroom had been a wonderful discovery. It was just _odd _in ways she couldn’t describe, and she’d felt just a little bit of distress when she realized that even curling in on herself meant that some portion of her body was exposed.

But the strength made that worth it, as well as the teeth that no one could ever make fun of her for.

Bellatrix - _ when she left her room _ \- had taken to draping Hermione across her form as much as she could - _ not an easy task really _ \- and idly petting her, letting Hermione peer down into the ancient markings of the journal with a confusion that was almost palpable.

Then - _ one day much like any other _ \- Bellatrix passed out at her desk and Hermione was forced to wonder when the last time was that she’d seen the woman sleep. 

This couldn’t continue.

The anger and distaste in Bellatrix’s mind were beginning to seep over to Hermione and only really stopped once she’d fallen unconscious. That day had been aggravating for them both; Bellatrix hadn’t left her room once and Hermione had snapped at Nagini, feeling irritable and insecure about herself as she waited on nothing to happen and magically save her from it. She’s snapped at the older serpent - _ a poor decision in retrospect, Nagini had simply clambered over top of her and held her down until Hermione had quieted and apologized _ \- and hissed at Narcissa, and then nearly crushed a little rodent that simply had the gall to peer out at her from its burrow underneath a couch in an unused room.

Hermione realized enough that she needed to hunt something. She needed to turn off her brain for a moment while Bellatrix turned from unconsciousness to fitful sleep, and she needed to do it fast before she let herself fall back into that rut.

Her Other self was more than willing to take over in service of that need.

Hermione still didn’t exactly know what to make of that sensation, the feeling of giving up control to the thing inside her head. It dove forward to wrest control from her, and it might have been that Hermione was simply lying to herself in saying that it was an actual _ Other _rather than just a conscious decision to give in to her instincts but it was _something _so she latched onto it. She let _it _take control, let _ It _run her, let _ It _crawl around on its belly with murder on _ It’s _mind.

She came back to herself when it made the kill. She came back to a body squeezing tightly, to venom pumping through her many fangs, to a startled little animal who’d wanted nothing more than to get food in its belly and then hide.

Though really it wasn’t that little today.

The fuzzy critter gave off a squeak of surprise when her jaws clamped shut around its hindquarters, and within moments her body caught up. She looped herself over it, around herself, squeezing down with every beat of its heart until it fell still. She waited until those last faint pulses of blood were stopped and then released what coils she could to still hold on and manoeuvred its head towards her mouth. 

_ She _did, or not, or the _ Other, _ or _ They. _

Either way, her hunger was sated and she retired inside with a full belly and Narcissa on her mind.

Probing at the edges of her bond with Bellatrix revealed nothing, and while Hermione wished she had more words to speak she resolved to use what she could in order to talk to the woman’s sister.

Mainly she did that by starting with gaining Narcissa’s attention, and she started _that _by amusing herself.

Hermione slithered patiently along the edges of the couch the woman was sat on and pushed herself along centimetre by centimetre until her long tongue was flickering against Narcissa’s neck. The woman recoiled onto the arm of the couch, eyes wide and a curse on her lips.

“Fuck!” Narcissa screamed, her sober and regal look now spoiled by genuine fright.

Hermione stared unblinkingly at her and fought to hide away the laugh she wished to voice. She only partly succeeded in that effort and settled instead for releasing staccato hisses, her head bobbing side to side in what could only be described as reptilian mirth.

Narcissa wasn’t so amused at her antics though, and her blue eyes narrowed down to a thin line in response.

:**_Right,_**: Hermione refocused, geniality fading as she spoke ineffectually in Narcissa’s face. :**_I’ve a need for you, Madam Malfoy._ **

The woman didn’t respond and Hermione didn’t expect her to, she simply nodded as if she were beckoning Narcissa and slid down to the ground, her long coils soaking up the distance as she pushed away from the couch. She turned back towards Narcissa and stared, swaying side to side. Eventually it seemed the woman caught on, a quirked eyebrow and cocked grin being Hermione’s only response.

_ ‘Or not,’ _ Hermione realized, watching Narcissa’s gaze turn to something quizzical. Hermione took that as a sign she wasn’t sure what Hermione needed, and so she was forced to beckon again, head twisting off to point by the entranceway.

“Oh,” was all that Narcissa said as she finally understood the pantomime. Apparently she didn’t find it exactly that surprising that what should have been a simple snake - _ which Hermione could quite readily admit she wasn’t, venom and constriction weren’t a regular combination and that was disregarding her odd and shifting colouration _ \- had more brains that something _simple, _ and was asking her to follow it somewhere within the home.

Narcissa stood up and straightened her robes, “Lead the way.”

\---

Draping Bellatrix out across the bed wasn’t really Hermione’s definition of hard work, or it wouldn’t have been had she magic and hands with which to channel it. Any witch or wizard worth their wand could manage to levitate an object or a person for long enough to cover short distances. Even Muggles could do it, though they were unfortunately impeded by weight.

But Hermione couldn’t do any of that, and the look Nagini was sending her made damn sure that Hermione knew _she _knew that fact.

Nagini was _laughing. _

With the serpent equivalent of a shrug, Hermione put the other snake out of mind and focused on Narcissa. The blond woman entered behind her and then tutted once she saw her older sister lying facedown on the desk and snoring as if her life depended on it. Hermione followed Narcissa as she lifted Bellatrix’s head by her curls and then dropped her back to the desk with a heavy thud, some uncomfortable portion of her heart screaming out that she should _care _when her - _ Owner, Mistress, _\- captor was harmed. A single hiss managed to escape her throat and her body shifted side to side, Narcissa turning about and then realizing why Hermione was displeased.

“She’ll be fine, little serpent. Cass. Snake. Whatever it is you want to be called. Bellatrix used to do this when she was cramming for school exams, or whenever she was preparing to be tested by our Lord. If I’m right she’ll be out of it for the better portion of a day and then come back to herself none the worse for wear.” Narcissa’s voice petered off as the woman finished explaining herself - _ and judging by the confusion on her face, Hermione was quite certain that said woman was now wondering just _**_why_ **_she’d felt the need to comfort her sister’s Familiar _ \- and applied a featherweight charm to Bellatrix’s sleeping form. She lifted Bellatrix up with one hand and guided her towards the bed, shifting the covers and pillows around until it looked like Bellatrix had been the one to lay herself down.

When she finished she summoned up a glass and filled it with water from her wand, pulled out a thin green phial from a pocket of her robes and set them both down onto the nightstand beside the bed. As she turned around to walk away she looked down at Hermione, and Hermione tried with every ounce of her will - _ every bit of her being and magic _ \- to make the woman see through her physical form really _see _what she was.

The doubt flowing off of her was strong as ever, even when she began to yawn. It was late at night and the filling meal she’d had not that long ago was leaving her all out of sorts with regards to questions or motive. Instead, Hermione contented herself with creeping to the nearest heat source now that the fireplace had extinguished itself into faint embers and fleeing ash. She climbed the bannister of the bed until she was atop it and looking at the slowly rising chest of Bellatrix’s sleeping form.

The witch had changed the covers and sheets out the day prior for something holding more texture; there was no silk here and instead it had been replaced with some sort of enchanted cotton with just enough friction in its fabric to give Hermione purchase as she moved. Hermione pressed forward and let herself think about everything that would come should Bellatrix be successful in her work to decrypt the journal. If she were lucky she could find her way into Grimmauld first and convince whoever was there - _ again, if she were lucky _ \- to help her.

_ ‘Perfect,’ _ Hermione thought, wrapping herself into a tight ball of coils against Bellatrix’s neck. She knew she would need to wait until Bellatrix’s work was done but just the surety of having some sort of plan - _ no matter how half-assed and threadbare _ \- had her falling back into sleep faster than she had in any of the days prior.

Certainly it was the plan - _ and not the comfort of Bellatrix beside her and the soothing warmth of a lovely emotion pouring from the bond as she kept warm skin pressed tightly to her scales _ \- that gave her strength enough to smile as she passed into sleep.

She would make it through this madness. No matter if she were the brightest witch of the age or brightest snake, she would find a way back to her body.


	11. Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chap

_ This had to be a dream. It _ **_must_ ** _be a dream. _

There was no question. It - _ must have, had to be, could only ever be _ \- was a dream.

_ This was a dream. _

If this was a dream, then why was she so fixated on convincing herself that was true?

Unless it wasn’t. Unless it really _wasn’t _a dream at all but a waking moment of lucidity sliced between moments of insanity. All the Gods above and below her knew that she’d done terrible things, horrid things, bashed her mind into dust millions of times over in service to her Lord and their cause. Maybe she’d finally just lost it? 

What if she couldn’t tell?

That _worried _her. That _bothered _her more than anything else could.

Not being able to tell. 

It _scared _her.

But that was the work of nightmares, no? They were meant to scare and deceive, and perhaps this vision - _ and the fear, and the worry, and the quickness of her heartbeat _ \- were only meant to frighten her.

When had she gone to sleep? She was too far out of it to be certain. She didn’t know. Who placed her in the bed? Again, she couldn’t tell. There were runes still dancing as flashing lights within her vision, a consequence of the various spells she’d been using in an attempt to crack the journal. But there were other things too, little differences to taste and texture, to the heat flowing back from her bond with Cass. 

That must mean this was simply a dream, right? There was no other explanation.

A dream was good. A nightmare? Better.

Darkness rose to greet her once again, slipping back into unconsciousness that left her drifting into slumber.

The last real thought she had was to question where she’d seen this beauty before. Oh, she wasn’t like _anyone _ Bellatrix had ever seen. But she was close. Near. The spitting image of _someone _that had been painted over with pretty additions. Skin in bronze cladding, a dusting of black and silver scales that whirled and looped across her form. Long hair and tight curls, a fang poking out over a lip.

The woman shimmered within her vision, beautiful and _different. _ But still so dark, so deep, a hole sucking away at her emotions and her mind.

With one final look, Bellatrix fell to sleep and dreamt of runes and caustic venom; slit eyes the colour of poisoned honey and a frightful beauty that stirred warmth between her legs.

\---

Morning brought with it a stretching burn within her muscles and a yawn that left her jaw popping in protest. 

Bellatrix rubbed the offending joint with absentminded attention, clearing her bleary eyes and peering all about her. There were still some faint images of runes compressed against her eyes, but they were nowhere near so sharp and painful as they’d been the day before. If she wanted to, she could even close her eyes and watch as they dissipated and reformed into blistering shapes, a light that faded as soon as she focused upon it. The mystery woman of her dreams seemed to have disappeared back into Hypnos’ realm, leaving only herself atop the bed and a sleeping Cass curled up atop her stomach.

With care and attentiveness towards the serpents sleeping state, Bellatrix pushed her off onto the bed and trailed the length of that proud spine. She still could not recall how she had arrived in bed, the last thing she really remembered was breaking _one _of the _many _cypher runes that kept the journal locked; then nothing after. Most likely she had passed out at the desk, which probably meant that Narcissa had been the one to haul her onto the bed.

Bellatrix glanced towards the nightstand and proved that theory out, two phials standing proud atop its surface and looking just as Narcissa would make them. She supposed they contained something to help her get to feeling refreshed - _ Narcissa certainly wouldn’t stoop to poisoning her. Her sister might hold grudges but she wasn’t murderous, and Bellatrix was confident that if that day eventually came, it would be with a knife and not a phial _ \- and ready for her day. With a shrug she grabbed them up and downed them, face curling up in distaste as she finished. They tasted bitter and _hot, _ a little bit like anise but also a little bit like death.

She couldn’t complain though. They were both relatively small and light, disappearing so quickly that she forgot about the aftertaste as she set them back atop the nightstand.

What she _could _complain about was Cass; the serpent was imitating a lump, and gentle handling only seemed to send the creature into more of a tight ball.

When it became clear that she would not be joining Bellatrix as she prepared for the day, the witch turned and left her alone. She spent minutes getting ready to face her sister’s ire while Cass continued to sleep and twist, a massive weight of muscle so docile she might have been a lamb.

A lamb with fangs and venom, perhaps, but something innocent nonetheless.

Narcissa would more than make up for that, Bellatrix assumed. She would admonish her for having worked so late, so long, for the lack of sleep and lack of care. It wouldn’t amount to much more than some snide comments but they would all be filled with distasteful barbs, and Bellatrix knew it would sting. She’d suffered beneath her sister’s reproaches more than enough times to understand their little dance. Part of that understanding meant that she preferred to be fully awake and restored before undergoing that bit of penance, and with that and mind she hurried up.

By the time she was ready to leave the room Cass had only just awoken, her head waving about in the air and tongue flickering in and out. The serpent looked tired beyond belief and Bellatrix wondered for a moment if she’d been awake just as long as she herself had been. Bellatrix hoped not, the serpent didn’t deserve that. What she _did _deserve however was some warmth, and with a smile on her face Bellatrix approached the bed and attempted to pull Cass up. Her weight was growing and soon enough settled about Bellatrix’s shoulders, tail wrapping up one arm in imitation of a hold, head tucked deep into the crook of Bellatrix’s neck.

With Cass nicely secured, she left the room and went to wander towards the kitchens in hopes of catching a meal. Additionally, she hoped it would be quiet and early enough that Narcissa wouldn’t be awake yet, nor her husband or her nephew. That seemed to be proven out when she crossed the floors with no one to meet her or greet her, the twists and turns leading her through the Manor and off towards the kitchens.

The elves were standing by when she entered, looking up and greeting her, “Mistress-”

Bellatrix growled to interrupt them, the little elf who’d tried speaking to her now quiet and shivering where he stood. 

“Breakfast, and make it quick.”

A snap of her fingers had the elves running to do their duty, working magic and food with single-minded attentiveness. Soon enough she was sitting in the corner of the room with a transfigured table and chair, steaming food placed before her and a hot cup of coffee at her side. Cass had dropped off to the floor long ago, and it seemed the Elves were entertaining themselves by throwing her scraps of meat in the hope she wouldn’t choose them for her next meal. She was undoubtedly large enough now to make a meal out of one of them, maybe two, and Bellatrix wondered if they were afraid of Cass because she was Cass, or fearful of Cass because Nagini enjoyed toying with them.

The massive serpent had yet to actually eat any of the Elves but she’d made striking motions, again and again, deep hisses that covered them in fear and worry. The thought that she might one day actually go through with her little threat displays was more than enough to leave the Elves in a tizzy, hurrying along to maintain this awkward status quo.

Bellatrix watched the proceedings with thinly veiled amusement as she finished her meal; Cass approaching them cautiously while nipping the lengths of meat from their hands, _ something _bleeding across their familiar-bond as she did so. The link was dashed away when the serpent began to really eat, however, and soon enough the Elves had all Apparated out of the kitchen. Cass continued to look around the kitchen for any leftovers - _ or perhaps she was looking for more Elves to mess with _ \- and then she seemed quite content to wait by Bellatrix’s side. She would nudge her foot every now and again, looking up and flickering her tongue until Bellatrix reached down to pet her head, scratch sharp nails over hardened scales and bleed warmth through her palm.

“I’m going to go head off back to work, Cass. I’m close to deciphering the journal, I think. You’re more than welcome to come back with me or just remain about, just be on the lookout for Narcissa. She’ll likely be in a poor mood once she knows that I’m awake and haven’t bothered to see her.”

Cass nodded - _ and for a moment Bellatrix was surprised at the motion, before sliding the thought into the realm of quickly answered things. It made _**_sense_ **_that Cass would understand her; they were bonded after all. Still, the _**_intelligence_ **_behind her eyes when she did so could only bring up flashes in her mind of last night’s dreams, images of the woman in her bed and the uncertainty of it all _ \- and flicked her tongue once more before heading off around the corner of the kitchen door. As Bellatrix watched her disappear, tail sliding away into nothingness when she passed the threshold entirely, she wondered just exactly _what _her familiar was.

She wasn’t Nagini, wasn’t _exactly _like her at least. But nor was she a mundane serpent, or any magical variant she knew of for that matter. Best she ask her Lord when next she saw him, she supposed.

Better than guessing, and better put off for later.

For now, she had one task and one task only; finish deciphering the journal.


End file.
